


Just As You Are Mine

by TheNarator



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Batfamily Feels, Families of Choice, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Cisco, Kid Dante, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, Tiny Vigilantes, turning characters who weren't superheroes in the comics into superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: Dick Grayson is used to being an older brother. It's what he's comfortable with, what he's good at. He's never given much thought to children of his own, but when fate places two tiny heroes in his path, how can he say no?





	1. A Little Trouble Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm writing another cisco-inserted-into-young-justice fic, this time of the kid fic variety! hedgi and i planned this one veeeery extensively together, so if you like it go thank her for all this angsty, fluffy goodness!

Sometimes Bruce would just ask Dick to do things.

Dick didn’t mind doing things simply because Bruce asked him to. He’d learned over the fifteen years they’d worked together that Bruce never did things without a reason. If he asked Dick or one of the others to do something, it was because it was important that it get done. Sometimes it would be investigating something seemingly inconsequential, sometimes it would be helping out another member of the League, but there was always, always a reason.

So when Bruce told Dick, “You need to help Flash with something,” Dick didn’t ask why Wally couldn’t do it or why it had to be him. He just asked for the details and left it at that.

“The Reverse-Flash has departed from his usual MO,” Bruce explained. “He’s killed a couple with seemingly no connection to the Flash or his affiliates, and abducted a seven year old boy.”

“That’s definitely unusual for him,” Dick took the file Bruce offered him. “Any ransom demand?”

“No one left to extract a ransom from,” Bruce told him. “They had no other relatives in the area. And no, he hasn’t tried threatening the kid to get at Flash.”

“So what’s he doing with him?” Dick asked.

“That’s the question,” Bruce said. “It’s been a month, and Flash is out of leads. He needs a fresh pair of eyes to look at the case.”

“A month?” Dick repeated warily. “I hate to say it, but at this point we should be looking for a body.”

“We have to assume the kid’s alive,” Bruce said. “Reverse-Flash has no reason to take the kid just to kill him. He must need him for something.”

“Any ideas what that something might be?” Dick asked.

“That’s for you to find out,” Bruce said.

More than once in the years that followed Dick wondered if perhaps Bruce had somehow known. Bruce had a way of knowing things, especially when it came to his kids. He always knew exactly what Dick needed. Had he known, even then, that Dick needed this?

***

“The police were pretty thorough,” Bary said, handing Dick the admittedly heavy case file.

Dick began to flick through it. The crime scene had certainly been dusted for prints to within an inch of its life, but nothing of interest had been found. Half the loose objects in the house had been collected as evidence, but none of them seemed relevant besides the murder weapon. Every neighbor on the block had been interviewed for a possible motive, but none of the transcripts were enlightening.

“I must have been over it a hundred times,” Barry said, rubbing his eyes.

“Is this all of it?” Dick asked as he finished skimming and flipped back to the beginning.

“Everything the police department has,” Barry confirmed. “Like I said, pretty thorough.”

“Not thorough enough,” Dick closed the file. “They neglected to interview the survivor.”

Barry blinked. “Survivor?”

Dick flipped through until he found a crime scene photo of a family picture that had been sitting on the mantlepiece. It depicted the dead couple and two young boys, one about six and the other around eight.

Barry took the file and stared at the picture as though seeing it for the first time. “How did I miss that?”

“You’re too close to this case,” Dick said sympathetically. “You can’t see it clearly. Don’t beat yourself up, the police didn’t think to interview him either, or didn’t think what he had to say was relevant enough to include.”

Barry nodded, looking numb with shock.

“I’ll go interview him,” Dick decided, handing the file back to Barry. “He’s only nine, so it’s unlikely he’ll know much, but he might have a clue that we’re missing.”

“Go,” Barry waved a hand. “I should run this back-”

“Keep it out for me,” Dick said. “I’ll want to look at it again when I get back.”

The older brother’s name was Dante, and it didn’t take a lot of digging to find out what foster home he’d been sent to. It was one of those places that liked to game the system by taking in several children at once, though the house was a small two-story. When Dick peered into an upstairs window he found a room crammed with five beds, all of which held a small child.

Dick tapped on the window, and the child in the nearest bed stirred and rolled over. She was a little girl with freckles across her nose and red hair in two long braids. As soon as she saw Dick her eyes went wide,and she slipped out of bed to pad quietly over to the window on bare feet.

The little girl unlocked the window and opened it, allowing Dick to step silently down onto the sill. “Are you Nightwing?” she asked.

“I am,” Dick said smugly. “I need to talk to Dante.”

“Don’t you live in Gotham City?” she asked, tilting her head to the side adorably.

“I do,” Dick admitted, “but I’m here helping the Flash with something. Can you wake Dante up?”

“Dante’s gone,” said the little girl.

Dick frowned. “Gone?”

The little girl went over to the next bed beside her own. She pulled back the covers, to reveal that it was stuffed with pillows.

“Where is he?” Dick asked urgently.

“I dunno,” the girl shrugged as she came back to the window. “He goes out at night a lot. Sometimes he brings back food.”

“He never tells you what he’s up to?” Dick pressed.

“He’s investigating,” said the girl seriously.

“Investigating,” Dick repeated. “The death of his parents?”

“He’s trying to find his brother,” the little girl said. “He doesn’t think the police are doing a good job, so he’s going to do it himself.”

“Did he tell you if he had any leads?” Dick asked.

She shrugged again. “Just that the police were dumb and he’d figure it out himself.”

“Thanks,” Dick said, then pulled an energy bar out and handed it to her. She immediately tore it open and wolfed it down in two bites, and Dick made a mental note to have child protective services sent around to the house.

The police station wasn’t too far, just a few blocks away, and Dick made his way over there as quickly as he could. It was likely that Dante would be going after the case file, but when he found that it wasn’t there he would probably leave to go find another lead. Dick kept one eye on the street as he ran, making sure that Dante wasn’t still on his way there, but there were no children about at this hour without an adult. He slipped into the precinct through an upstairs window, to find a lab thankfully devoid of late-working CSIs. The records’ room was in the basement, so Dick made his way downstairs by stealth, carefully avoiding the people that _were_ working late.

“Where is it?” came a furious whisper as Dick closed the door noiselessly behind himself.

A light was shining from between two rows of filing cabinets, and when Dick rounded the corner he found a little boy crouched next to an open drawer with a small flashlight in one hand. His other hand was riffling through the drawer, but judging by his quiet cursing he wasn’t having any luck.

“Looking for something?” Dick asked pointedly.

The little boy looked up with a shocked expression. He had longish hair that fell in his face, and he had to flip it out of his eyes in order to see Dick clearly. He was small, maybe nine years of age, but lean and athletic. His eyes were big and dark and guileless, the picture of childish innocence.

They looked a little less innocent when the kid shone the flashlight directly in Dick’s eyes. Dick blinked, holding up a hand reflexively, whereupon the flashlight dropped to the ground and the kid took off down the row of cabinets.

“Hey!” Dick called, blinking the spots out of his eyes as he chased the kid down to the end of the row.

Dick’s legs were longer, but the kid was fast; he whipped around a corner and headed for the door, which Dick had previously been blocking his way to. Dick doubled back along the first row, coming out next to the door at roughly the same time as the kid.

“No!” Dante yelled when Dick caught hold of him.

“Easy kid,” Dick soothed, none the less holding on tightly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m-”

Dante went limp in Dick’s arms, forcing Dick to take his full weight. Dick knelt down, wondering if Dante was alright, and loosened his grip so that he could turn Dante to face him. No sooner had he relaxed his arms though than Dante began to struggle frantically, nearly succeeding in breaking Dick’s hold.

“I’m not a cop!” Dick tried, scooping Dante up and rising to his feet. “You’re not in trouble, I just want-”

Dante planted his feet on the doorframe and pushed with all his might, forcing Dick’s head backwards against a filing cabinet hard. Dick grimaced but kept his grip, angling Dante’s feet back towards the floor.

“I’m here investigating your brother’s disappearance,” Dick said, as loudly as he dared.

Dante went still. Slowly he began to relax, until Dick was able to set him on the ground and turn him around so they were face to face.

“I’m Nightwing,” Dick introduced himself, “and I’m going to assume that you’re Cisco Ramon’s brother, Dante.”

Dante nodded.

“The police didn’t want to hear what you had to say after the attack did they?” Dick asked.

Dante shook his head.

“Well I do,” Dick told him. “If you’ll take a walk to with me.”

Surprisingly Dante had no trouble getting up onto the rooftop of the neighboring building. Then again, Dick supposed he was still young, still limber and light enough to make certain jumps a larger person wouldn’t have attempted. The really impressive thing was that he did it silently, which might have been attributed to living in a foster house but was still a valuable skill if one did a lot of sneaking around at night. Dick wondered idly how often Dante had snuck out of his foster parents’ house, and how often he’d been caught to have learned to be so quiet.

“So,” Dick began once they were both dangling their legs over the side of the building. “How much do you remember from that night?”

“Everything,” said Dante immediately. “I’ve been going over it in my head, I can remember-”

“Easy,” Dick held up a hand. “Start with what you were doing right before the attack.”

Dante took a breath, then started. “We were in the living room, watching TV. Dad was in his chair, and Cisco was sitting between me and mom. It was dark, almost time for bed. I was tired.”

“Then what happened?” Dick prompted.

“The front window broke,” Dante recounted, “and then he was there. The man in yellow, who moved so fast he was a blur. Before anyone could move he . . . he put his hand through Mom’s heart. Just, right through her chest. It was-”

Dante took a shuddering breath, and Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He waited a moment while Dante blinked rapidly, then when Dante looked up at him Dick nodded for him to continue.

“Then he got Dad,” Dante said. “The same way, just right through the chest. I thought he was going to get us too, but he just crouched down in front of us. Then he pulled out this little black box.”

“A box?” Dick asked.

“Yeah,” Dante nodded, “with a screen and a little hole in one end. He stuck my finger in the hole and I felt it prick me. Then the screen showed something in red.”

“What did it say?” Dick asked.

“I don’t know,” Dante admitted, looking sheepish. “I couldn’t read it upside down.”

“That takes practice,” Dick assured him. “You’re doing really good.”

Dante swallowed, then went on. “He didn’t look happy with what the screen said, so he pushed me off the sofa. Then I saw him do the same thing to Cisco, only this time the screen flashed something in green.”

Dick nodded and tried not to frown. Whatever test Reverse Flash had put these boys through, obviously Cisco had passed and Dante had not.

“What was he doing?” Dante asked earnestly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dick instructed. “Just tell me what happened next.”

“Then he took Cisco,” Dante said dismissively. “But what was he doing with that box? What did it tell him about Cisco and me? Is that why he took Cisco and left me behind?”

“Probably,” Dick said noncommittally, getting to his feet, “but that’s not for you to concern yourself with. Let me worry about why he took Cisco and not you.”

Dante leaped up beside him. “Tell me,” he demanded, “what are you thinking? I want to help-”

“I don’t need your help,” Dick said, as gently as he could. He knew what Dante was feeling now, the profound sense of loss that demanded action to fill the void. But he had to dissuade the kid from putting himself in danger.

“The police don’t take this case seriously,” Dante insisted. “They’ve given up on finding my brother. I _have_ to do something-”

“The thing you do is go home and let me work,” Dick told him. “I can’t be worried about you while I’m trying to look for Cisco.”

“He’s my brother!” Dante shouted, voice rising in anger. His eyes were no longer guileless and innocent, but narrowed and shrewd and determined. He had very expressive eyes, Dick realized. They made him look impossibly young.

“I know,” Dick said placatingly, “but I’m the superhero. You’re just a kid.”

Dante glared, but didn’t seem to have an argument for that.

“Come on,” Dick beckoned to him. “I listened to your story and I believe you. Now it’s time for you to go home.”

“That place is not my home,” Dante crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s the place where you live,” Dick said, “so for now it’s home, and you’re going back.”

“You might have taken my story seriously,” Dante said venomously, “but you don’t take _me_ seriously. You’re just like all the others.”

“Maybe,” Dick said, “but you are going back, like it or not.”

Dante was clearly still upset, but he let Dick accompany him back to the foster house without further complaint. He clambered up the tree outside the children’s bedroom window with ease, and Dick was sure to stay and watch as he pulled the pillows out from under the blankets and climbed into bed. Dick stayed a few moments more, watching as Dante laid down his head and began breathing evenly. It was clear Dante didn’t like the place, but hopefully child protective services would resolve the issue. Nonetheless, Dick returned to his safehouse with an uneasy feeling. He couldn’t help but want to do more, but he knew the most he could do was find Cisco and reunite him with his brother. That was what he did to help.

Tomorrow, he would get to the bottom of all of this.

***

Despite the League’s best efforts, metahuman trafficking was still a business that could be very profitable if you knew the right people. Thankfully even the right people needed someone to do the grunt work, meaning that there were people who saw the deals happen but didn’t have quite the level of protection their bosses could afford. Someone in Central City had the intel Dick needed. It was simply a matter of finding that someone.

Dick didn’t know Central City as well as he knew Gotham, but Barry had a few ideas about where he should start. One lowlife thug led him to another, until he had a scruffy little person by the name of Slug cornered in an alley on a street where most of the lights had gone out.

“I’d start talking if I were you,” Dick advised, using his best loom to make Slug cower. It wasn’t difficult, given that Slug was almost a foot and a half shorter than Dick.

“Talk?” said Slug quickly, his voice gone high and shrill with fear. “Sure, I’ll talk, what do you wanna talk about? Crazy weather we’ve been having-”

“You work for a metahuman trafficking ring,” Dick stemmed the panicked tide of words.

“Me?” Slug placed both hands on his own chest. “No sir, I’m not involved in any of that-”

“The metahuman powers come from a metagene,” Dick went on, “but it has to be triggered by some kind of trauma. Before that it lays dormant.”

“Sounds like some complicated science stuff,” Slug cut in. “I’m not a smart guy, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“I think you do,” Dick said. “I think your boss has a way of detecting if someone has a dormant metagene.”

“I told you, I don’t-” Slug began, but Dick put both hands on his shoulders and slammed him into the wall. Slug shrieked and curled in on himself.

“Does the technology exist?” Dick demanded.

“Yes!” Slug squealed. “Yeah, it does. My boss, he paid a lot of money for something that could tell if a kid was-”

“Not interested,” Dick interrupted. “He was paid even more money to give the technology to someone else.”

“I don’t know anything about-” Slug tried, but Dick slammed him into the wall again. “Alright! Some guy in a business suit came by the other day, paid a suitcase full of cash for one of the detect-y things!”

“Your boss was curious about him though wasn’t he,” Dick pressed. “He did a little digging on his mystery buyer.”

“Maybe,” Slug whimpered. Dick made to grab him again, but he gave a little cry of fear and sank to the ground, curling into a ball.

“Tell me what you know,” Dick ordered.

“I don’t know nothing,” Slug insisted, “I don’t know-”

Suddenly Slug uncurled and, pushing off from the wall with one hand, slithered quickly around Dick’s legs. Dick grabbed for him but he dodged, popping to his feet and sprinting for the mouth of the alley. Dick was close behind him but Slug was faster than his name would suggest, and he was out on the street before Dick could grab at the back of his shirt.

“Hey!” Dick called, reaching for his utility belt, but suddenly Slug’s legs snapped together and with a strangled cry he felt flat on his face on the sidewalk.

Dick paused, surprised. He looked to Slug’s feet, wondering what had tripped him, and found a thick beige string wrapped around both his ankles. At one end of the string was a bright yellow yo-yo, and the other end stretched back past Dick’s own feet. He followed it along the ground, all the way back past the alley to where Dante Ramon stood, holding the yo-yo’s string in both hands and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You!” said Dick.

“Ow,” said Slug.

“Told you I could help,” said Dante.

“What, you got a little sidekick now?” Slug said, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows. “He’s kinda cute-”

“He’s not my sidekick!” Dick snapped, then turned back to Dante. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping,” Dante said simply. “Ask him your question.”

“Look,” said Slug, “you don’t know the bits of the harbor my pieces are gonna end up if I-”

“The man in the suit!” Dante snarled, with startling vitriol. “Where can we find him!”

“We’re not doing anything,” Dick insisted, but Slug didn’t seem to hear him.

“He’s holded up in a house somewhere, out on the edge of town!” Slug whined. “That’s all I know, I swear!”

Dante made a practiced flick of the wrist, and the yo-yo unwound from around Slug’s ankles.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dick demanded as Slug got up and sprinted off down the street.

“I told you,” Dante said, “I’m helping-”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Dick said angrily. “These are dangerous people I’m dealing with-”

“Him?” Dante gave Dick a skeptical look. “Please, _I_ can take him.”

“Can you take Reverse Flash?” Dick asked. “Because I don’t think you’re quite ready to take on a speedster, and he’s not so easily intimidated.”

“I don’t need to fight him,” Dante insisted. “I find this house, get in, get Cisco and get out. You know, sneaky sneaky.”

“No, not sneaky sneaky,” Dick said. “You are going home, and you are going to stay out of this.”

“That place is not my home,” Dante growled.

Dick took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. “Fine,” he said, “then you’re going back to the house. I am going to take you there, and you are going to stay there while I rescue Cisco. Understand?”

Dante glared but said nothing.

“Look,” Dick sighed, “I can’t do my job if I have to worry about protecting you. The more I can focus the faster this goes, and the faster I can get Cisco back to you.”

Dick went to kneel in front of Dante, taking both his small hands. They were so small, so tiny and delicate, that Dick almost felt like he would break them by accident. How easy it would be to injure this little boy made his heart pick up, made him want all the more to impress upon him the danger he was in if he continued on this path.

“I’m the superhero,” Dick said. “You’re just a kid. So I need you to be a kid, and let me do my job.”

“Weren’t you a kid once too?” Dante asked.

“Yeah,” Dick admitted, “but that was a long time ago. Now I’m an adult, and my responsibility is to keep you safe. So can you just, not make my job harder.”

Dante considered a moment, then nodded. “Fine,” he said sulkily, “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Good,” said Dick, then ruffled Dante’s hair. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Dante didn’t protest again that the house wasn’t his home. He allowed Dick to escort him back, then climbed through his window and back into bed. Dick lingered a moment longer again, watching the rise and fall of Dante’s chest, seeing his hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around his small face. He looked so unbearably peaceful, so incredibly innocent, that Dick felt his heart clench at the thought of this tiny little life putting itself in such danger.

Then he shook off the feeling and went back to his safe house. Tomorrow he was going to find where the Reverse Flash was holed up. Tomorrow this would be over, and he’d be on his way home. Tomorrow the Ramon brothers would be reunited, and Dick would never see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember comments are love! tell me what you think of tiny dante! tell me what you think of the writing! tell me how you think this fic is gonna go! tell me a n y t h i n g! and remember to thank hedgi!


	2. A Little Trouble Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sort of designed this story as a series of smaller stories, sort of like "episodes," then divided them up (mostly into two parts but not always) so that the chapters would be shorter and also kind of like a commercial break. be sure to tell me what you think of this model in the comments.

Sometimes detective work was less about the evidence and more about educated guesswork.

Dick was taking a risk by narrowing down potential houses based on whether or not they’d just had their electricity turned on, but it was the best way to tell that someone had only recently moved in. Even after being stringent on what could be considered the ‘edge’ of Central City there were still too many potential houses where the Reverse Flash could be hiding. He needed to eliminate some of them somehow.

Using electric bills reduced the number of potential hideouts to twenty, so Dick sifted carefully through those. Most of the houses were big, and had been purchased by wealthy families ready to expand. One had been purchased by an unattached individual, but he turned out to be a notorious doomsday prepper buying a great deal of the surrounding land as well. He had almost exhausted his theories and was beginning to consider widening the search when he found it.

The property had been purchased under the name Edward West, and Dick knew that West was Iris’s maiden name. He dug deeper, but Edward West didn’t seem to have much of a past, or a presence anywhere that left a paper trail. Dick couldn’t even find a picture. The house was isolated, but atop a large hill, so it boasted a view of Central City despite being some distance from it. It was the perfect place to lay low.

And the perfect place to stash an abducted child.

The house, when Dick laid eyes on it, was old and run-down, like no one had lived there or bothered to keep up with it in years. The lock on the door, however, was new. There were no nearby buildings to provide convenient vantage points, but the house was far enough away from the city that the forest was immediately behind it. Dick came at it from that direction, and quickly found the tallest, most dense tree in which to conceal himself.

The problem was, there was already someone there.

“You!” Dick hissed when he had climbed a reasonable distance into the tree, to find Dante Ramon nestled between the trunk and an uptilted branch. “What are you doing here?”

“Investigating,” said Dante innocently. He had a pair of cheap binoculars and was watching the house with them, but he let them fall around his neck to dangle by their cord so he could look at Dick.

“I thought you said you were going to stay out of this,” Dick reminded him.

“I said I would stay out of your way,” Dante corrected.

“How is this not in my way?” Dick asked.

“I got here first,” Dante said. “You’re in _my_ way.”

“How did you even find this place?” Dick asked. “Why are you watching this house?”

“Looks spooky,” Dante said significantly, picking up his binoculars and turning his attention back to the house.

“That’s your brilliant detective work?” Dick asked. “It looks spooky?”

“It’s isolated,” Dante continued. “It has a good vantage point so you can see people coming. No one’s lived here for a long time-”

“How do you know?” Dick interrupted.

“When the school bus drives past the lights are always out,” Dante explained. “Then, just the other day, the lights come on. Plus, when we used to pass it everyone would say that if you were gonna kidnap someone, you’d take them there where no one could hear them scream. I figured I’d check it out.”

Dick stared. He had to admit, it wasn’t bad detective work for a nine year old. He’d used many of the same parameters Dick had used to narrow his search. Dante had gone back to looking at the house through his binoculars, the picture of an investigator. It made something a little like pride well up in Dick’s chest.

Dick shook himself. He had no time for this.

“Look,” Dick said, “I don’t have time to take you home, so keep quiet and if something happens you _stay here_.”

“It’s my stakeout,” Dante said, with a tone of supremest condescension. “You just showed up.”

“True,” Dick admitted, then grinned slyly as he drew out two energy bars. “But I brought the snacks.”

Dante was immediately focused on the bars in Dick’s hand, but he didn’t grab at them. Perhaps he knew that he’d never get one if he tried to take it from a superhero by force. Dick offered him one, and Dante immediately snatched it away and tore it open. He did not manage it in two bites, as the little girl from the house had, but he chewed and swallowed at a rate that was nonetheless alarmingly fast.

“Hungry?” Dick asked pointedly.

Dante nodded, swallowed his last bite, and picked up his binoculars again.

“When was the last time you ate?” Dick wondered.

“Yesterday,” said Dante, without taking his eyes off the house. He did not seem to think this would get a reaction from Dick, but Dick was making a mental note to have that couple’s foster license revoked.

“Seriously?” Dick said reflexively.

“Yep,” Dante made a popping sound with his lips around the end of the word. “I’m in trouble. She says I _am_ trouble.”

“You couldn’t even sneak something?” Dick asked.

“Fridge is padlocked,” Dante replied.

Dick was going to have this couple _arrested._

“You don’t know how to pick a lock?” Dick asked, more to distract himself from the idea of contacting Bruce right then to have him send the police to that house than anything.

Dante glowered into his binoculars. “I almost had it that last time, but she caught me. It would have gone faster if I had something better than a bobby pin.”

Dick opened his mouth, then closed it again. He’d been about to say that he would get Dante a proper lockpick. He had almost gotten out his own and offered it to Dante, to be replaced when he returned to Gotham. He found himself wanting to show Dante how to use it, to teach him the fastest way to get past a door or out of a trap. But he wouldn’t do any of those things. He couldn’t, because after tonight he would never see Dante again. Dante would be reunited with his brother and have no more need of detective skills, and they would go to a house where they didn’t need a lockpick to get into the refrigerator. Dante would not need Dick or the things that existed in his world after tonight.

Dick was spared from thinking about why that bothered him so much by the sight of a yellow blur leaving the house at top speed.

“It’s him!” Dante cried, already sliding off the branch onto the next one down.

“Stay here!” Dick commanded, jumping down after him.

In the end they reached the ground about the same time. Dante took off for the house before Dick could tell him to stay hidden, and Dick had no choice but to go tearing after him. Even though Dick was faster he knew there was no point in stopping to drag Dante back to the relative safety of the trees. He would have prefered to go in by an upstairs window, but he barely reached the door ahead of Dante and held up a hand to stop him from yanking it open.

“Let me go first,” Dick hissed as quietly as he could.

Dante turned his attention to the door, but stayed where he was.

Dick tried the door and found it unlocked. He opened it silently and peered into the darkened entryway. No lights had been left on, but moonlight streamed in through the large windows, casting an eerie glow about the front hall. Dick turned and signaled for Dante to follow, and the two of them crept quietly into the house.

Dante was surprisingly quiet for an untrained nine year old, but then again Dick supposed living in an abusive foster home was a kind of training. He kept close to the walls where the floor was firmest and breathed silently through his nose. He did not look at Dick for instructions but instead hurried as fast as stealth would allow into the next room. Dick followed after, feeling that curious glow of pride again, when suddenly there came a cry of anguish from the next room.

“Dante!” Dick called, forgetting stealth in his haste as he sprinted for the doorway.

Dante had made it through the dining room and into the kitchen, where he was now crouched on the floor, hunched in on himself. Dick knelt beside him, seizing him by the shoulders so he could turn him around.

“What’s wrong?” Dick demanded, checking him over for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

Dante shook his head, then held out the objects he’d been hunched over. It was a tiny pair of red and yellow sneakers.

“Cisco’s?” Dick asked, understanding at once why Dante was upset.

Dante nodded. “He was here,” he said, and his voice was high and broken. “He was here and that monster _took_ him and-”

“Nightwing to Batgirl,” Dick said, standing up and tapping the communicator in his ear. “I need you at the computer _now_.”

Barbara replied immediately. “What’s wrong? Did something-”

“No time,” Dick interrupted. “I need you to track the Reverse Flash’s energy signature. I know for a fact he’s on the move right now.”

“On it,” said Barbara.

“Can you find him?” asked Dante urgently, eyes wide with fear and desperation.

“If this works,” Dick told him.

“Got him,” said Barbara into Dick’s ear. “He just came to a stop in Coast City. Sending you the coordinates now.”

“Call Flash and tell him to get to Coast City, I’ll meet him there,” Dick instructed.

“Coast City!” Dante repeated in alarm. “How are we supposed to get there!?”

The words ‘you aren’t, I am’ were on the tip of Dick’s tongue, but seeing the expression in Dante’s face gave him pause. Those expressive eyes had gone all big and dark and shining, glistening in the moonlight with unshed tears and full of a fragile sort of hope. He just wanted to save his brother. Leaving him behind felt . . . wrong.

“Come with me,” Dick said instead, and held out his hand. Dante took it, his hand feeling unbearably small in Dick’s larger one.

“Where are we going?” Dante asked as Dick made for the front door, pulling Dante behind him.

“Coast City,” said Dick determinedly.

The zeta tubes were programmed to allow League and team members to bring a guest if they used an override code, which Dick was grateful for as Dante clung to his hand inside the small phone booth. Thankfully the Coast City tube wasn’t far from the house where Reverse Flash’s energy signature had stopped, so Dick and Dante reached it around the same time as Barry.

“Who’s the kid?” Barry asked, looking at Dante in apprehension.

“The survivor,” Dick explained simply.

Barry did not seem to need any more explanation than this, just smiled knowingly and turned back to the house.

The Flash’s style was slightly more race in and pose dramatically than Nightwing’s, so Dick let Barry take the lead. He took Dick by the shoulder with one hand and tucked Dante under the other arm, and in a quick burst of speed he had vibrated them through the front wall and into the house. Once inside they found themselves in the living room, where Reverse Flash was standing in front of an expensive leather sofa. Sitting on the sofa was Cisco Ramon, looking exactly as he had in the family picture, but pale and startled rather than happy and smiling.

This might have been because Reverse Flash had a hand sunk wrist-deep into his chest.

“No!” Dante screamed, struggling against Barry’s hold.

He was abruptly dropped to the ground, and suddenly the whole room was caught in a high wind as red and yellow blurs chased each other around and around it.

“Dante wait!” Dick yelled, but Dante was already running to where Cisco was slumped sideways onto the sofa. His body was limp, and his eyes were closed.

Dick had been angry about the outcome of cases before. He’d welled up with the injustice of the world many times, and spent more than a few nights crying himself to sleep over people he couldn’t save. Never before had he felt like this, the sheer blinding fury he felt as he watched Dante pull Cisco’s dead body into his arms. Dick pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it at the ground, causing everyone else to stop what they were doing and cough. He followed the unfamiliar voice five steps to his left and hit the figure there with a kick so hard it could snap bone. There was a grunt of pain, and Dick wasted no time pulling out a baton and bringing it down hard over where the man’s head should be now that he was doubled over.

When the smoke cleared, Reverse Flash was lying in a heap on the floor.

“Dante,” said Dick, immediately turning away from his opponent as Barry raced to restrain him. “Dante, are you-”

Dante was kneeling on the floor with Cisco laid across his lap, crying and gasping for breath. Dick went to kneel beside him, but Dante flinched away when Dick tried to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” he sobbed, clutching tighter at his baby brother.

Dick allowed him to sit there as other people began to arrive. Wally came to help deal with containing the Reverse Flash. The police came eventually, blocking off the house with yellow crime scene tape. One of them tried to pull Dante away, but Dick held up a hand and the officer moved off.

“They’ve gotta do their jobs,” Wally said gently, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes,” Dick insisted.

“You’ve gotten really attached to this kid haven’t you?” Wally noted.

Dick blinked, turning to look at him in surprise. “No,” he said automatically, “Why would you think that?”

“Dude,” said Wally skeptically. “You got a little something in your eye.”

It was only then that Dick realized that tears had been leaking out of his eyes. He wiped them away hurriedly, and Wally gave him a concerned look.

“You gonna be okay?” Wally asked. “I mean, I know it’s bad, but we’ve seen worse things happen.”

“He’s a good kid,” Dick replied. “He . .  he doesn’t deserve this.”

“They never do,” Wally reminded him gently.

“Not like this though,” Dick shook his head. “He _looked_ for his brother. He was so close to finding him and-”

“And that’s why you brought him along,” Wally guessed.

“He didn’t deserve to be left behind,” Dick said. “He deserved the chance to see this through. To find his family.”

“I guess he did,” said Wally.

Dick opened his mouth to ask what Wally meant by that when suddenly his attention was drawn back to Dante by a cry of alarm. Dante was looking down at the body in his arms with an expression of pure shock. There was a muffled little noise like whine, and then Cisco Ramon stirred, shifted, and opened his eyes.

“Cisco!” Dante practically screamed, hugging his brother close to his chest.

“Dante,” Cisco said more quietly, his voice hoarse and shaky. “What happened?”

“You died,” Dante sobbed, fresh tears rolling down his face. “He killed you and I _saw_ you die and-”

“I’m not dead,” said Cisco irritably. “No matter how much you wish I was.”

Dante laughed wetly and buried his face in Cisco’s small shoulder.

***

“All tests show the kid is perfectly healthy,” Clark said, looking at the results of the battery of tests the doctors had put Cisco through.

He was right of course. Cisco had been put through every test that existed concerning his heart, short of actually opening his chest to have a look at the thing. By all accounts what should have been a shredded pile of meat was a functioning organ. Other tests had been done, nearly every scan known to science, but all of them had come back normal.

“All but one,” Bruce replied.

Dick scanned the results projected over the main floor of the watchtower again. “His vibrating frequency has changed?”

“Also,” Bruce waved a hand to bring up a keyboard and tapped a few keys. “Have a look at this.”

What looked like security camera footage from the lobby of the hospital came up. Dick saw himself, Dante holding onto one of his hands, but his other hand was clasped on thin air.

“Where’s Cisco?” Dick asked.

“He doesn’t show up on the tape,” Bruce said, “or any of the tapes from the hospital security cameras. Something about his new frequency.”

“I think it’s safe to say that this kid’s dormant metagene is now an active metagene,” Dinah said, looking at the results with some trepidation.

“Not to mention that whatever his power is, it’s something the Reverse Flash was keenly interested in,” Bruce added. “Somehow I don’t think it stops at the inability to be caught on tape.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Oliver asked. “We can’t just put him into the system with an unknown power. He could hurt himself, or someone else.”

“Then he’ll move in with me,” said a voice. Dick was only a little surprised to find that it was his own.

“Are you sure?” asked Diana. “It would be cruel to take him and leave his brother behind. Would you be willing to-”

“They’ll _both_ move in with me,” said Dick firmly. “I’m in a two bedroom right now, but my spare room’s big. There should be room enough for all of us.”

The rest of the League was looking at him with varying degrees of skepticism, but Wally did not seem doubtful at all. He was grinning, looking at Dick with a knowing expression. Dick glanced at Bruce, to find him also smiling a small, approving smile.

In case of emergencies all of Bruce Wayne’s adult children had foster licenses. Child Protective Services was not at all pleased with the fact that Dante’s foster family had let him get all the way to Coast City without noticing he was gone, so he and the other children were removed from their care. Bruce pushed the paperwork through in record time, and before morning Dick Grayson was officially awarded guardianship of Cisco and Dante Ramon.

Now the only thing left was to tell them.

He came to the hospital room in his Nightwing suit. This was how Dante knew him, and how he would have to explain what was happening. Dante had insisted on staying with Cisco while he was kept overnight for observation, but when the pre-dawn light had awakened both of them Dante had climbed onto the bed with his brother. The two of them were talking quietly together when Dick entered, but they went quiet and looked up when he knocked on the doorframe.

“Hey guys,” said Dick casually, trying to temper his excitement with the knowledge of what the boys must be going through. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Dante glanced at Cisco, who nodded shyly. Then he turned back to Dick and beckoned him inside before shifting so that Dick could have a place on the bed next to him. Instead of taking it Dick went to kneel on the floor so that he and Dante were almost eye to eye.

“Thank you for saving me,” said Cisco quietly, ducking his head to peek at Dick through his lashes. His eyes were big and expressive, like Dante’s, but his hair was longer and his face was fuller.

“I didn’t do much Dante couldn’t have done without me,” Dick said, grinning. “He even had a plan to get you out.”

“You did?” Cisco looked at his brother in surprise.

“Of course I did idiot,” Dante said, shoving at Cisco’s leg under the blankets. “I wasn’t gonna just leave you there.”

Dick smiled, watching the two of them with fondness welling up in his chest. Then he took a deep breath and considered how to begin.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you,” he said carefully. “It’s been . . . a nightmare. But you’re back together now, and that’s got to count for something.”

Dante looked at him warily. “Does that mean they’re not going to separate us? Because I know that happens. Katie had an older brother, and he-”

“We’re not going to separate you,” Dick assured him. “In fact if you don’t like what I’ve arranged I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re never separated again.”

“What did you arrange?” Cisco asked curiously.

“I thought . . ” Dick said, then suddenly couldn’t find the words. “I mean, if it’s okay with you . . . I thought that maybe . . . you’d like to move in with me.”

Both boys stared at him, open mouthed and eyes wide.

“Only if you want to though,” Dick said hurriedly. “I can figure something else out, if you want.”

Dante and Cisco looked at each other, seeming to gauge what the other was thinking. Then Dante turned back to Dick.

“Before we say yes,” he said carefully, “you’re going to have to tell us who you are.”

“Fair enough,” Dick said, laughing slightly, and removed his mask. “Actually, the thing is, I’m Richard Grayson.”

Both boys stared at him again. Then, Dante’s lip began to tremble. All of a sudden he started to cry, gasping for breath and making little noises of distress as tears streamed down his face. That was the last thing Dick had expected, and for a moment all he could do was blink in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, recovering himself after a few seconds. “Are you okay? You don’t _have_ to move in with me if you don’t-”

“No,” Dante sniffled. “It’s just . . . _mom!_ ”

Dick blinked again, this time in confusion. “What?”

“Mom likes . . . liked, to watch celebrity news,” Cisco explained patiently. He reached out and touched Dante’s shoulder. “She used to say how you were a good boy who made your family proud.”

Dick let out a shaky breath. “So I reminded you of her,” he said, a little relieved.

“For a second there I couldn’t wait to tell her,” Dante blubbered. “But, she’s _gone_ , and-”

“I know,” said Dick, taking both Dante’s small hands in his. “I know what you’re going through. And I wish I could tell you that pain goes away, but I can’t. It sticks with you, and maybe you’ll never watch celebrity news the same way again, but it will get easier. You find new things to smile about, and you remember that she would want you to be happy, even without her. And it doesn’t stop hurting, but it gets easier.”

Dante sniffled, swallowed, and drew back his hands so he could wipe his face on his sleeve. “You really want us to live with you?” he asked.

“I really do,” Dick said.

“Would we get to be superheroes?” Cisco asked excitedly.

“You don’t have to,” Dick said quickly, “and you-” he pointed to Cisco “-get to wait a few years. But . . . I think it’s time Nightwing had a sidekick. If you’re up for it.”

“Definitely,” said Dante, and there was a little bit of that determination in his eyes. The sadness still accompanied it, but it was there. Then he frowned.

“But I’m not being Robin,” Dante said quickly.

“Of course not,” Dick agreed seriously. “There’s already a Robin. You need something else.”

“What about . . .Trouble?” Dante asked hesitantly.

Dick grinned. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to comment, and thank hedgi for the feels!


	3. All Shiny and New Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record i have no idea how mind reading or winches work, i'm just making stuff up. next chapter it starts to get angsty again, so have some fluff.

The early morning light in Gotham City was dim and filtered through smog, but it still shone determinedly through Dick’s bedroom window. It pressed on his eyelids, dragging him unwillingly back to consciousness despite his exhaustion. Six months ago he might have rolled over and ignored it. Six months ago a Sunday had meant he got to sleep in.

Six months ago he had lived alone.

Dick yawned, stretched and sat up, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his feet into his fuzzy slippers. He could already hear noises from the kitchen, which was never a good thing this early, so he crept down the hall until he could peek his head around the door. Cisco and Dante were up, as he had suspected, and were in the kitchen in their pajamas. Cisco was standing on a chair pulling the waffle iron out of the cabinet to set on the countertop, and Dante was consulting Dick’s tablet with one hand and holding open the refrigerator with the other.

“Can I help?” Dick asked playfully.

Cisco nearly dropped the waffle iron but managed to hang onto it. Dante looked up nonchalantly, as though entirely unconcerned -- and unsurprised -- by Dick’s presence. He was getting better at that, Dick noted.

“If you want,” Dante said, going back to perusing the contents of the fridge.

Cisco put the waffle iron carefully on the counter, then turned to Dick with a bright smile. “Good morning!”

“Good morning to you too,” Dick laughed, walking over to close the cabinet door Cisco had left open.

“We wanted to make you breakfast,” Cisco explained as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position.

“But we were gonna try a new recipe today,” Dick protested lightly. “We’re supposed to do that _together_ , right?”

He threw a look over his shoulder at Dante. Dante did not look at him, instead pulling a carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“It’s easy though,” Dante said, settling both the tablet and the eggs on the counter and letting the fridge fall closed. “It’s just scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.”

Dick went to the pantry to pull out the bag of potatoes. “In the waffle iron,” he corrected. “And it also has cheese and chives.”

“We don’t have any chives,” Dante said.

“Yes we do,” Dick frowned, setting the potatoes on the counter beside Cisco going to check the fridge himself.

“We used them all on the casserole,” Dante corrected, moving aside to let Dick pass.

Dick checked the fridge and concluded that, to his annoyance, they did not appear to have any chives.

“Ok, no chives,” Dick said, closing the fridge, “but it does have cheese. Grab that, then go sit at the counter.”

As Dante did as he asked Dick opened one of the upper cabinets and pulled out two cheese graters, one with small holes and one with large holes. He handed the small one to Cisco, then pulled out a potato peeler for Dante.

“The whole block of cheese,” Dick passed Cisco the wedge of sharp cheddar, “and two small potatoes, got it?”

The boys nodded seriously and got to work. Once Dante was finished peeling the potatoes Dick shredded them into a bowl, and Dante went to crack and whisk six eggs. These were added to the potatoes, along with the cheese, and then whisked again. Cisco plugged in the waffle iron and Dante sprayed it with nonstick cooking spray, and Dick poured in a little of the mixture.

“I had a weird dream last night,” Cisco said carefully as Dick handed him plates to set the table.

“Was it blue?” Dick asked, trying not to sound overly concerned. He’d learned that he needed to strike the right balance when asking Cisco about dreams. He needed to sound interested, but not like he was worried.

“No,” Cisco shook his head, “but it felt really real.”

“Sometimes dreams feel real,” Dick told him, “but we know that visions are always blue.”

“Right,” said Cisco, as though trying to reassure himself. “Visions are blue. We know.”

“What did you dream?” Dick asked, feeling a little more relaxed. Figuring out Cisco’s powers was a work in progress, but there were a few hard and fast rules that they knew of.

“I dreamed that the house was full of bees,” Cisco shuddered. “And there was one giant bee in the living room that talked to me, but I don’t remember what it said.”

Dick winced sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s definitely a weird dream.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t open a portal in your sleep again,” Dante added.

“Yeah let’s try to avoid that,” Dick opened the waffle iron and slid the first waffle out onto the serving plate. “It’s hard to predict where they’ll lead if you don’t open them on purpose.”

Once all of the batter had been made into waffles Dick carried the plate to the table. Everyone took a waffle and cut themselves a large bite.

“Needs ketchup,” Cisco said, getting up.

“Need salsa,” Dante said, following him.

“Needs chives,” Dick said, sitting back in his seat. Alfred had warned him that chives always made a dish perfect. It was good, but it wasn’t Alfred’s cooking.

“Can we mix salsa in the batter next time?” Dante asked, returning to the table with the glass jar of salsa and a spoon.

“We’re not putting salsa in the waffle iron,” Dick said firmly. “At least not until I ask Alfred if it’s ok.”

“I don’t want salsa in it,” Cisco agreed.

Dante called Cisco something in Spanish that Dick was willing to bet translated to ‘wussy.’

“Why don’t we try it with chives first, then see how you like it?” Dick proposed. “We’re going to the store today, so we’ll get some and try it for breakfast tomorrow.”

The boys looked at each other, then turned back to Dick and nodded.

***

Going to the grocery store with the boys was always something of an adventure.

Cisco on his own would have been perfectly content to stay with Dick. Perhaps it was what had happened to him, but he generally preferred to stay within eyesight of someone he thought was safe. Unfortunately Dante was also safe, and he was the type of kid to go running around the store in search of whatever he could remember was on the list. There was no method to his search, it was just a mad dash through the aisles before returning to the home base that was the cart and then running off again, dragging Cisco behind him. Dick wasn’t overly worried, he had absolute faith in Dante’s ability to take care of himself and Cisco, but he couldn’t stop a little twinge of fear when they’d been gone what felt like too long.

They were the children of a minor celebrity now. They had more reason than ever to be careful of strangers.

“Chives!” Dante announced as he came sprinting back with Cisco close behind. He threw a little bag of green sprouts into the cart, beaming.

“Good,” said Dick, surreptitiously checking to make sure there were enough. “Next is corn. Whole kernel, not creamed, and two cans.”

Cisco and Dante took off again. Corn was only down at the end of the current aisle, so they were back almost immediately, each carrying a can. Dante merely put his in the cart, but Cisco handed his to Dick. Dick noticed that, as usual, the boys had chosen the store brand. He was tempted to put them back and get the name brand, but there wasn’t really that much of a difference. The boys would learn eventually that they didn’t need to get the cheapest version of everything. Until then he didn’t feel like correcting them.

“Next is-” Dick began, consulting his list as he rounded the corner of the aisle, but before he could finish the boys had already taken off.

Dick looked up, to find himself faced with rows and rows of cookies.

“One pack each!” he called after them. “And gets yourselves snack cakes to put in your lunch too!”

Dante came back with oreos and zebra cakes, and Cisco returned with peanut butter cookies and individually packaged brownies.

“You said those little brownies were never as good as you thought they were,” Dick reminded him.

Cisco considered a moment, then nodded and beckoned to Dante. They two of them went back, returning with a second box of zebra cakes.

“Excellent,” said Dick, ticking them off his list. “Now we need-”

“Can we get poptarts?” Cisco asked suddenly.

“Poptarts?” Dick asked. “Come one, breakfast is the one meal I actually know how to make.”

“For dessert!” Cisco insisted.

“Poptarts for dessert?” Dick asked skeptically.

“Yeah!” Dante chimed in. “Please?”

Dick sighed, glancing at the cookies already in the cart. “One box.”

The boys raced off in search of poptarts, Dick staring after them. He supposed it wasn’t such a ridiculous thing. Poptarts had probably been a quick breakfast for a working family, easily made and eaten in a hurry. Craving them was like a craving for an old routine, for the life they had known before this one. He remembered his own cravings for buttered popcorn his first few months at the manor, and let Cisco place a value pack of s’mores poptarts in the cart without further comment.

He picked up a box of microwave popcorn down the next aisle.

The rest of the afternoon the three of them spent on their own pursuits. While Dick got some work done Dante practiced his latest piece on the baby grand piano that Bruce had gifted them with as soon as he found out Dante played, and Cisco worked quietly on building his newest Tesla coil. Dante was familiarizing himself with the lesser works of Bach this week, and Cisco’s newest coil promised to be small enough to fit in one hand, which Dick was confident was going to break some kind of record.

Gotham had been deeply interested in the talents of Dick’s children from the beginning. They had absolutely eaten up the story of a poor orphan adopted by an eccentric billionaire paying his good fortune forward, and overnight Cisco and Dante had become the darlings of the city. It made perfect sense that Dick would choose such exceptional children, just as he had been chosen in part for own talents, and Dick preferred to let them all think what they liked. Anything but the truth. He made an instagram for the boys and filled it with videos of Dante playing piano and Cisco making mechanical light shows, and no one thought to bring up Cisco’s past.

They ate dinner early, before the sun had set. Dick didn’t feel like cooking so he ordered chinese food, much to the boys’ delight. Cisco talked animatedly about the things he would build if he had the parts, and Dante squirmed in his chair, looking longingly out the window.

“From what I can tell, mind reading works via the electrical impulses in people’s brains,” Cisco explained eagerly. “Mind readers have hyperactive mirror neurons that can pick up signals from other people’s brains. If I can build something that can interrupt those specific neurons, I can stop a mind reader from reading a person’s mind.”

“And what about mind control?” Dick asked. “Is that mirror neurons too?”

“It’s tapping into other people’s mirror neurons!” Cisco said excitedly. “I could build something that lets off a frequency that interrupts mirror neurons on both sides!”

“I’m guessing that would take a lot of equipment,” Dick speculated.

“At first,” Cisco shrugged. “But I could make it smaller. It’s just a matter of finding the right frequency, and then directing it right.”

“Sounds complicated,” Dick said with a smile.

“A little,” Cisco said dismissively, but he was beaming. “I could do it.”

“I’m sure-” Dick began, but Dante interrupted him.

“Dick,” he said, jerking his head at the window. “It’s getting dark.”

Dick looked up, to find that it was indeed getting dark. The setting sun stained the Gotham City skyline red, and already Dick was starting to hear police sirens in the distance.

“Alright,” Dick pushed back his chair. “Time to get ready.”

***

Dante had been surprisingly accepting of the fact that he’d need months of training before he could go out as Trouble. Dick handled most of his training, but Bruce worked with him some, and so did Tim and Jason. He wasn’t a bad fighter, for a nine year old, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve for dealing with bigger opponents, but the thing he had the most trouble with was keeping an appropriate distance. He was, as of right now, much too small to be in the thick of things, but he found most of the long range weapons too awkward to use. He preferred something that he could have more control over, something he wouldn’t run out of in the middle of a fight.

Finally they settled on a compromise.

“Gah!” yelled the thief as he fell to the ground amidst the chorus of blaring alarms from the jewelry store.

His head collided with the sidewalk in what looked like a painful manner, and then he screamed high and shrill as he was dragged across the ground and then up into the air. As the thief began to wriggle like a fish on a hook, Dante stepped out of a nearby alleyway.

“Look what Menace and I caught,” called Dante, tugging on the metal cord of the yo-yo currently wrapped around the thief’s ankles. The cord was looped over a streetlight, from which the thief was now dangling.

As Dick stepped out of the shadows he took a moment to admire the way Dante looked in the suit they had designed together, simultaneously reminiscent of the Robin costume with its bright colors but still distinct in its execution. Dante had forgone any symbol of a bat or bird, and had instead adorned the red shirt with a blue T design that went all the way to his shoulders. The blue went all the way down to his black boots, accented with a red strip unlike his black gloves, but it was lighter than the dark blue cape. This had been cut to resemble a folded pair of wings, in honor of Trouble’s partnership with Nightwing.

“Nice work,” said Dick approvingly. “Now let him down.”

Dante jerked twice in quick succession on the cord, and the mechanical winch inside the body of the yo-yo released and allowed the thief to fall. Within seconds it was back in Dante’s hand, and Dick was standing with one foot on the thief’s chest.

“Stay down,” Dick advised.

The thief nodded sadly.

It was nearly midnight when Dick and Dante made their way home. Dick would eventually allow Dante to stay out later, but Gotham had other protectors in the small hours of the morning. They reentered the apartment through the window, to find Cisco laying on the sofa in his pajamas. He looked to be asleep, but was evidently only dozing, as he opened his eyes the moment Dick’s boots touched the floor.

“I thought you went to bed,” Dick said, crouching beside the sofa as Cisco sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“I wanted to wait for you,” Cisco said, in an adorably sleepy voice that completely erased any annoyance Dick might have felt about him staying up late.

“You don’t have to you know,” he said, smoothing down Cisco’s hair with one hand.

Cisco smiled, eyelids drooping. “But I wanna prove I can be up late too, so I can go with you.”

“You don’t have to worry about staying up late,” Dick said, scooping Cisco into his arms and carrying him towards the bedroom, Dante trailing behind them. “Not for two more years anyway.”

“What if I get better with the portals?” Cisco wheedled as Dick laid him on the bed.

“Nine is when I started,” Dick replied, pulling the covers over Cisco and tucking them in around him. “That’s as low as I’m going.”

Cisco frowned, but he was already blinking long and heavy. As Dante stripped out of his suit Cisco’s head fell to the side, and by the time Dante was in his pajamas Cisco was breathing evenly. Dante climbed into his own bed and laid himself on his side, facing his brother. He did not close his eyes right away, but stayed watching Cisco as Dick turned out the light.

“You okay Trouble?” Dick asked softly before he shut the door.

Dante’s lips twitched into a smile, but he did not take his eyes off Cisco. “Super.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know not a ton happens in this chapter but more will happen next time and then things _really_ start to pick up. this was mostly just fluffy happy times to serve as a contrast for when shit gets angsty again. remember to thank hedgi for helping me with the au and also thank the amazing and talented kineticallyanywhere for the design of dante's costume. i can't come up with that shit on my own.
> 
> EDIT: if you want to see what dante's costume looks like, the amazing and talented kineticallyanywhere has now posted the design for your viewing pleasure [here](http://kineticallyanywhere.tumblr.com/post/164938692967/9-year-old-dante-ramon-as-nightwings-sidekick)!


	4. All Shiny and New Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be advised that inconsistencies between this story and comics/show are because this is my fanfic and i do what i want. why isn't dick living in bludhaven? because he doesn't in my version. why hasn't barbara become oracle by now? because she doesn't in my version. why isn't wally dead? _because he doesn't die in my version!_

Before coming to Gotham Academy, Dante had held a few beliefs about private school.

When he’d been in first grade Dante had already been playing Mozart for fun, but none of his teachers ever believed him. They smiled indulgently when he explained that his family had a piano at home that he’d been learning on since he was big enough to reach all the keys, but he never had occasion to prove his skills. Then one day he happened to have had a chance on the music teacher’s piano, and once she’d heard him play she’d immediately stopped the class to make a phone call. The next day a letter had arrived, inviting him to an exclusive private school for the musically gifted.

His mother had immediately thrown the letter in the trash.

“Why not?” Dante had asked, excited by the prospect of going to a school where he could do nothing but play piano all day.

“It’s a private school,” his mother had said. “You wouldn’t fit in there.”

“How do you know?” Dante had demanded.

“It’s full of nothing but rich brats,” she’d replied. “Believe me Dante, you wouldn’t like it. The other kids, they wouldn’t understand you.”

Because of this, Dante had been a little reluctant to enroll in Gotham Academy. Dick had said it was a good school, with a good music program that could help him improve, but Dante still wasn’t sure. For himself he might have been willing to go on his trust in Dick alone, but Cisco would also be attending. Kids hadn’t understood Cisco at their old school. He could only imagine what they’d be like at a private school.

“It’ll be good for Cisco too,” Dick assured him. “They have great math and science programs, including advanced classes for gifted students. I think he’ll enjoy it.”

“What if he doesn’t fit in there?” Dante asked. “At our old school people made fun of him for taking fourth grade math.”

“This isn’t a school where they make fun of smart kids,” Dick said. “Believe me, this is a good place for you. Both of you.”

Thus far, he hadn’t been wrong. Dante liked his piano class, which had only four other students all of whom could actually play pretty well and didn’t distract him by making random noises like the kids at his old school. Cisco raved about his advanced science class, where the teacher was deeply impressed by his knowledge and let him build nearly whatever he wanted. There were a few kids who hassled Cisco for being weird, but Dante was very well liked and most people left Cisco alone when he was around.

Cisco had been grade skipped twice, so except for their respective advanced classes Cisco and Dante spent most periods together. Dante mostly chatted with his friends in the back while Cisco sat up front and answered nearly every question, but at lunch they sat together. Most of Cisco’s friends were in his science class and Dante was friends with most of their grade, but generally they found a quiet corner and talked only to each other.

“How was science?” Dante asked, pulling the tuna sandwich Dick had made him out of his lunch box and watching Cisco pull out his peanut butter and jelly.

“Good,” said Cisco shortly, looking down at his lunch. Dante waited, but Cisco didn’t elaborate

Dante frowned. He generally liked to take this opportunity to check in with Cisco and make sure he was alright, but Cisco usually wanted nothing more than to talk about his latest project. For him to give a one word answer was unusual.

“What are you working on?” Dante pressed, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Nothing much,” Cisco replied. He picked up a grape from the little plastic bag, looked at it, then put it back down.

“Do you know what you want to work on next?” Dante asked.

“I  _ want _ to work on my psychic disruptor,” Cisco told him, “but I can’t do that in class.”

“Are you still thinking about that?” Dante wondered, then wanted to kick himself. He sounded judgy, like the kids who used to pick on Cisco for building gizmos in first grade.

If Cisco noticed Dante’s unintentional tone, he didn’t show it. “I want to build something useful.”

“You built me a laptop last year,” Dante blinked in confusion. “You’re building another one so Dick doesn’t know we have one to ourselves. You turned my electric toothbrush into a sonic toothbrush just last week.”

“Yeah,” Cisco rolled his eyes, “but I want to build something that useful, you know,  _ at night _ .”

It took Dante a moment to get Cisco’s meaning, but when he did he frowned again. “You’re not supposed to worry about what happens at night.”

“How am I supposed to not worry?” Cisco asked. “You’re in  _ danger _ and I can’t help!”

“Keep your voice down!” Dante hissed, leaning in close. Cisco looked around hurriedly, then leaned forward too.

“Trouble has Nightwing with him,” Dante said carefully. “He doesn’t need anyone else to protect him.”

“I don’t think he does,” Cisco insisted. “But he has a brother who has powers, and that means I . . . he should be helping.”

“His brother isn’t good enough with the portals yet that he can fight with them,” Dante countered. “He needs more time to train-”

“But no one will train me!” Cisco argued, forgetting the code in his agitation.

“That’s because you’re too young,” Dante explained. “You don’t need to worry about it yet, so don’t.”

Cisco didn’t look convinced. Instead he let his eyes fall dejectedly back down to his food, his expression disappointed and sad.

Dante sighed. “You’ll get better with the portals just by getting older,” he insisted. “You only opened them by accident at first, then you figured out how to do it on purpose. Just practice, and eventually you’ll get to train with me.”

“Really?” Cisco asked, looking up hopefully.

Dante grinned. “Promise.”

***

The worst part of Dick and Dante going out as Nightwing and Trouble was that Cisco had no idea when they’d be back. It was usually before midnight, but that didn’t tell him much. He always wondered how late was too late for them to be out, and when he should start getting worried. He knew what he was supposed to do if they never came back, but how long should he wait before he decided it was ‘never’?

Dick always tucked him into bed before they left, but it always felt wrong to Cisco to be asleep while they were off risking their lives. The first few nights he’d stayed in bed and then pretended to be asleep when they came back, but laying there alone with his thoughts did nothing for his nerves. Eventually he’d taken to wandering the apartment, working on projects and laying down on the sofa when he got too tired to see straight. Dick didn’t approve of this though, saying that it was dangerous to work with tools while he was tired, so Cisco was left with not much to do.

After he heard the window close -- he was getting better at recognizing the sound -- he slipped out of bed and went to the living room. Despite the fact that it was 8:00 he wasn’t really tired, so he pulled one of his Star Trek novels he’d gotten at the secondhand bookstore and curled up on the sofa. He was halfway through it already, so it amused him for a few hours but by the time he was finished Dick and Dante still weren’t due home for some time yet. He thought about getting out a new one, but his eyelids were beginning to droop. Deciding that noise would help him stay awake, he turned on the TV. It was on Dick’s favorite news station, which it was usually turned to since they didn’t watch a lot of TV, so Cisco began to flip through the channels one by one looking for something interesting to watch.

He stopped when he heard the word “Superman.”

He’d been pushing the button too fast, so he had to flick back a few channels to get to the one he wanted. It was some kind of talk show, with a man next to a desk with a big screen behind him. The man had slicked back hair and a sour expression, and his voice was gratingly high and growly. However, the obnoxious quality of his voice might have had something to do with what he was saying.

“I know we’re all reluctant to doubt the Man of Steel,” said the man, gesturing at the screen. It showed a picture of Superman, his cape fluttering in the wind. “But it’s time to wake up!”

A red forbidden sign slammed down over the picture on the screen with a harsh noise, and Cisco gaped.

“He can’t protect us from this threat,” the man continued, “and he doesn’t want us looking for other solutions. He doesn’t care about whether he can do his job or not. All he cares about is being seen as ‘our hero’,” the man made sarcastic air quotes, “no matter how many of us he fails!”

“That’s not true!” Cisco shouted at the screen. He’d met Clark a few times over the past few months, and he’d always been kind to both Cisco and Dante. Cisco couldn’t picture him being indifferent to other people’s suffering, whether he could have done anything or not. Besides, everyone knew that Superman only wanted to protect people, not be seen as a hero.

“And the conspiracy doesn’t stop there,” the man said animatedly. “Batman, Wonder Woman, and many other members of the almighty Justice League have spoken out against this new technology.”

Pictures of the people he mentioned appeared on the screen next to the one of Superman, all with red forbidden signs stamped over them.

“It’s not just aliens we need to worry about anymore,” said the man. “These people, these ‘metahumans’ are a scourge. Every one of them is a ticking time bomb ready to go off, and we deserve to know who they are!”

The man slammed his hand down on the desk, rattling a cup of pencils.

“Make no mistake my friends,” he said, “they are everywhere. In your workplace. When you go to the gym. Working at your favorite bookshop. And even in your children’s schools.”

Cisco gasped, his heart clenching in fear. He felt suddenly watched, as though the eyes of this man were upon him even through the TV screen. How could he know that? How could he know that Cisco went to school every day, keeping his powers a secret? What would the other kids say, if they knew he was a metahuman?

“That’s why we need this technology,” the man went on. “We need it to keep us safe, so we can know when a metahuman is sneaking into our lives. We need them in airports, in office buildings and yes even in schools, to make sure that our children-”

“What on Earth are you watching?” said a voice from behind him.

Cisco jumped and looked around, craning his neck to see over the back of the sofa. Dick was standing over him, in his Nightwing suit but with no mask, looking at the man on the TV in obvious annoyance. Before Cisco could say anything Dick snatched the remote out of his hands and switched the TV off, silencing the tirade that had continued in the background.

“I’m sorry!” Cisco said quickly, jumping off the sofa to stand up straight. “I just, I wanted to wait for you, and-”

“Cisco,” Dick interrupted, kneeling down in front of him. “It’s ok, I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” Cisco asked nervously.

Dick shook his head, smiling in the way that Cisco always found reassuring.

“You sounded mad,” Cisco told him.

“I’m mad at him,” Dick nodded toward the dark screen of the TV. “I’m mad that he made you cry.”

“I’m not-” Cisco began, but when he wiped his face with one hand it came away wet.

“It’s ok,” Dick said again, cupping Cisco’s chin and wiping at Cisco’s damp cheeks with both his thumbs. “He says mean things. Most of them aren’t true.”

“It’s true that I’m a metahuman that goes to school,” Cisco pointed out.

“But it’s not true that that’s a bad thing,” Dick countered. “You have every right to go to school like a normal kid. Wally did. Conner did. Lots of people did it, and still do it. It hasn’t been a problem yet.”

“He said bad things about  _ everyone _ in the League though,” Cisco insisted.

“Which should tell you that he’s saying things just to say them,” Dick replied. “You know the League aren’t bad, so don’t listen to him.”

“Then why does he say stuff like that?” Cisco asked.

“Because it makes him feel important,” Dick said. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. I didn’t want you knowing about Godfrey and all his hate.”

“I’m sorry,” Cisco said again.

“Not your fault,” Dick bumped his forehead against Cisco, smiling gently. “His fault. Now, time for bed.”

While Dante changed Cisco allowed himself to be tucked into bed for a second time. As soon as Dick turned off the light and shut the door though, Dante immediately turned on the lamp on their shared bedside table.

“What did that Godfrey guy say?” Dante whispered.

“He said that the League were against some new technology,” Cisco explained. “Something about knowing who the metahumans were. He said he wanted to put it in schools!”

“Jerk,” Dante spat.

“Will I be able to go to school if people find out I’m a metahuman?” Cisco wondered.

“That won’t happen,” Dante shook his head. “The League won’t let it happen.”

“What if it does though?” Cisco asked. “What if people don’t want me to go to school because of my powers?”

Dante grinned mischievously. “Then I’ll deal with them.”

***

One of the things that the entire family had worked hard to impress upon Dante was that whatever skills he learned with them he could not use out of costume. While he was being Dante Ramon, oldest son of Dick Grayson and grandson of Bruce Wayne, he could not be seen to have the same skillset as Trouble. Creating any connection between the two could endanger the secrets of the entire family, put them all at risk for exposure. Even if something bad was happening, to him or someone else, he had to pretend he couldn’t fight. 

So when Dick got a call telling him to come to the school because Dante had punched some kid in the face, his first thought was,  _ well at least it wasn’t a roundhouse kick. _

Dick had never really been disciplined when he was in school. Not that he had never done anything wrong, he just hadn’t ever been caught. As such, despite the fact that this had once been his school, he had to ask directions to the principal’s office. When he found it the place was more spacious than he’d imagined, with room for several large ferns in addition to the large oak desk and the row of five hard chairs in front of it. Sitting at opposite ends of this row were Dante and another boy Dick didn’t recognize. The boy was oddly tall and broad shouldered for an elementary schooler, but one of his eyes was red and puffy and he was glaring at Dante.

“Mr. Grayson,” said the principal, a different man than the one from Dick’s time, whose desk placard proclaimed as John H. Guzman. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, despite the unpleasant circumstances.”

Dick put on his best fake smile and shook Mr. Guzman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too. Mr. Guilford was principal when I was in school, and I don’t think you were here when I enrolled the boys.”

“I was not,” said Mr. Guzman amicably. “Down with the flu. I am sorry I had to call you in, but it’s school policy to inform the parents directly when a student engages in . . . physical violence.”

“This is so unlike Dante,” Dick lied easily. “I can’t believe he would do a thing like this without a reason.”

“I had a reason,” Dante interrupted before Mr. Guzman could reply. “He was messing with Cisco!”

Dick turned to look at Dante. “What do you mean messing with?”

“Cisco spaced out,” Dante explained, using their agreed upon code for Cisco getting a vision in public. “Jerkwad started pulling Cisco’s hair and laughing, and so I punched him.”

“Well there you have it,” Dick turned back to Mr. Guzman. “He was defending his brother.”

“That’s no excuse for your behavior young man!” snapped Mr. Guzman at Dante. “Poor Brian here will have to miss the rest of the school day so his mother can take him to have that eye looked at-”

“Wait a minute,” Dick said, holding up a hand. “You mean to tell me the other boy’s not in trouble?”

“He’s the victim,” said Mr. Guzman in obvious surprise.

Dick frowned. “He pulled Cisco’s hair. He started it.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr. Guzman, “but Dante made it physical.”

“And touching Cisco is what?” Dick asked sharply. “Metaphorical?”

“Well,” said Mr. Guzman, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean to say-”

“So you’re teaching my children that when someone puts their hands on them they’re not allowed to fight back?” Dick asked. “Is that what you’re teaching them?”

“I- I mean,” Mr. Guzman stuttered, then swallowed. “It’s school-”

“Policy,” Dick finished for him, “and I don’t care. My son defended his brother, which is exactly what I’ve always taught him to do. He did exactly what he was supposed to do in that situation.”

“Mr. Grayson please-” Mr. Guzman swallowed nervously. “Don’t put me in this-”

“You are going to have Cisco pulled out of class,” Dick interrupted. “Then I am going to take both my kids out for ice cream, to make up for them having to put up with this ordeal. You will not dock their attendance, you will not put this incident on Dante’s record, and you will not call me for something like this again. Am I understood?”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Guzman said, nodding hurriedly. “So sorry to bother you, I’ll have Cisco sent up to the office right away.”

Dante was oddly quiet as they waited for Cisco, and when they went out to the car. He buckled himself into the passenger seat while Cisco climbed in the back, and Dick glanced over at him as often as he dared after they pulled out. He was looking down at his hands, and frowning as though in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, after the silence had stretched on for several minutes of driving. “Are you missing your piano class?”

“No,” said Dante quietly. “I just . . .”

“Yeah?” Dick prompted gently.

Dante looked up at him at last. “Thank you,” he said solemnly

“For what?” Dick asked, perplexed. “Taking you out for ice cream? Don’t expect this every time you get called to the office alright, I want you to try to solve the situation without violence next time.”

“No,” Dante shook his head. “For taking my side.”

Dick struggled to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to stare at Dante, at the strange look of profound relief and gratitude he was wearing. His big eyes were wide intense as they looked at Dick, like he wanted to impress upon him the gravity of the situation.

“Kid,” said Dick incredulously, “I will always take your side, ok?”

“You will?” Dante blinked rapidly, eyes widening even further.

“Yes,” said Dick firmly. “I want you to remember that no matter what happens, I am always,  _ always _ , on your side.”

Dante looked down at his hands again. “Thank you,” he repeated, just as quietly as before.

“No problem,” said Dick, giving Dante a small, reassuring smile.

***

“Not a bad night,” Dante said as he clambered back through the window. He dropped to the floor to let Dick in behind him.

“More than not bad,” Dick countered. “We found evidence that could really help with Bruce’s latest case. That was some great observational skill there.”

Dante took off his mask and shrugged nonchalantly. “It was nothing,” he said, the picture of unconcern, but then the look was ruined when he couldn’t suppress his grin.

Dick couldn’t help but grin either. Dante had been little more than a kid with good instincts when they had met, but he’d come a long way in the last six months. He was learning to be more aware of his surroundings, to make connections and recognize patterns, and to organize a lot of tidbits of information into a meaningful whole. He wasn’t quite ready for the police academy, but he was coming along.

A buzzing noise from the living room interrupted Dick’s thoughts. His mind immediately went to Cisco, who had taken to falling asleep in front of the TV while waiting for them. Dick had no idea if he’d continued to watch the G. Gordon Godfrey show, but he hoped not.

“What are you watching  _ now _ ?” Dick wondered, taking off his mask as he rounded the corner into the living room. “It sounds like-”

Dick paused as he caught sight of the TV. It was off. Dante came into the room behind him, also removing his mask.

“Cisco?” Dante asked, not stopping as he skirted around Dick’s legs. “What’s that noise?”

The sofa was facing away from the entrance to the living room, so Dante had to walk around it to see if Cisco was sitting there. Once he could see around the back however, Dante let out a cry of alarm.

“What is it?” Dick demanded, striding quickly to stand behind Dante as he dropped to his knees in front of the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

It was Cisco. He was lying on the sofa, doubled over as though in great pain. He was also trembling, but not like Dick had ever seen before. His whole body was not so much shuddering as  _ vibrating, _ so fast as so hard he seemed blurred around the edges. The buzzing seemed to be coming from him, a strange humming sound created by the vibrations.

“What’s happening?” Dante asked, looking from Dick to Cisco in a panic. “What’s wrong with him?”

Dick stared at Cisco. A tightness was gripping his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He felt like there was a lead weight in his stomach. His blood felt like ice in his veins. Spots danced in front of his eyes as his world narrowed to the two little boys in front of him.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaangst! and a cliffhanger! the next two chapters are collectively called "Tremors."
> 
> tell me your favorite line in the comments and don't forget to thank hedgi!


	5. Tremors Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the spirit of this chapter i would like to remind you all that hedgi, who helped me come up with the plot for this story, is about to celebrate the second annual "dammit hedgi!" day on september 25th! she is now accepting prompts for angsty drabbles she can write to make us all cry and say "dammit hedgi!"

Dick examined Cisco’s latest medical scans with a critical eye. Like the day he’d come into Dick’s care, they were projected over the main floor of the watchtower. Unlike that day, they were less than encouraging.

“He has hairline fractures in both arms and two cracked ribs,” Dinah read from the medical report. “The constant shivering-”

“Shivering!” snorted Oliver.

“-is causing a dangerously high fever,” Dinah shot him a glare. “And his vibrating frequency is all over the map.”

“He nearly disappeared from the visual spectrum yesterday,” Clark added.

“And this is his second hospital stay in as many weeks,” Bruce concluded. “This is getting difficult to explain.”

“What’s causing this?” Dick asked no one in particular. He combed through the results again, hoping that this time a pattern would emerge that would offer some explanation. Nothing presented itself.

“Best guess?” Clark offered. “Growing pains.”

“Growing pains?” Dick repeated skeptically. “His powers are turning inward and destroying him from the inside.”

“It is not uncommon in young martian children for the emergence of full telekinetic powers to do some minor damage to the body,” J’onn agreed. “This may simply be a phase in his development.”

“It’s killing him!” Dick protested.

“Hairline fractures are hardly a death sentence,” Diana pointed out. “We’ve all gotten worse in training alone.”

“But the attacks of trembling are increasing in both frequency and intensity,” Bruce countered. “They do more and more damage each time they come, and they’re not showing signs of slowing down.”

“If anything they’re accelerating,” Dinah said. “So far an attack hasn’t come on in public yet, but at the rate he’s going, it’s just a matter of time.”

No one needed to speculate on what would happen if Cisco had an attack of trembling at school. With the metahuman issue on the public’s minds and multiple politicians putting “regulation” efforts in their campaign platforms, being exposed as a meta was more dangerous than ever.

“We need something to contain this now,” Oliver said. “I hate to say it, but a pod-”

“We’re not putting my son on ice,” Dick cut him off.

“It would just be temporary,” Dinah soothed. “Just until we find another solution.”

“How long is temporary?” Dick asked. “A week? A month? Six months? How much of his childhood is he expected to pass in stasis?”

“It might be better that he just sleep through this,” Barry suggested. “When my body changed to accommodate the speed force I was in a coma. Imagine what that might have been like if I was awake.”

“You were an adult,” Dick argued. “Cisco would be missing school, developmental years-”

“No one’s talking about leaving him there for years,” Diana said firmly. “We could even put a time cap on it if it will make you feel better.”

“This isn't about making me feel better,” Dick said. “It’s about a little boy's life. B, back me up here.”

For a moment, Bruce said nothing. Dick swallowed, feeling suddenly surrounded. He’d always been able to count on Bruce to be the voice of reason, but now he wasn't saying anything.

“Cisco’s doing injury to himself,” Bruce said at last. “The pod will stop that.”

Dick hesitated, looking around at the assembled superheroes. They made it sound so simple, but . . .

“He’s just a kid,” Dick said quietly.

“A kid with powers, possibly very volatile ones, that we know almost nothing about,” Clark replied. “This isn’t just about his safety. We have to remember that he was given these powers to be a weapon.”

“He’s still a kid,” Dick insisted. “He doesn't deserve-”

“Any of this,” Bruce finished for him. “But it’s happening, and we need to deal with it.”

“It would be his choice,” Barry said, “but you’re his guardian. The . . . idea, should come from you.”

“This is  _ not _ my idea,” Dick shook his head.

“But if you present it to him, he’ll be more receptive,” Dinah explained. “He trusts you, possibly more than anyone. If someone’s going to ask him to do this, it should be you.”

Dick looked away. He felt keenly the eyes of all the League upon him, but he couldn’t face them. They were all wearing identical looks of pity, looks that said they didn’t envy his position but they all expected him to make the same choice that they would. That they already had.

Zatanna, who had been quiet up to that point, took a few steps closer and placed one gloved hand on Dick’s shoulder.

“You want to do what’s best for your family,” she said gently, “and we understand that. But sometimes there are no good solutions. Just ones that suck less than others. This solution? Is the one that sucks the least. For Cisco.”

Dick closed his eyes and summoned up all his strength. “The time cap will be three months. During that time we will  _ not _ stop looking for another solution-”

“Of course not,” Dinah agreed.

“-and if Cisco says no, nobody puts any pressure on him,” Dick finished decisively. He looked around the room, to see the others nodding grimly in agreement.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Zatanna offered. “When you ask him?”

“No,” Dick shook his head, then glanced at Bruce. “This is a family matter.”

***

Cisco was still in the hospital after having both his arms splinted so he could heal from the hairline fractures. Thankfully these did not require a cast, so he still had an almost full range of motion. The cracked ribs would heal on their own given a few months, though painkillers had been prescribed to help with his breathing. As always Dante had insisted on sleeping in the chair beside Cisco’s bed, and had crawled onto the bed as soon as Cisco was awake.

For a moment Dick stood in the doorway, watching the two of them together. They had both been through so much, were still going through it in a way, and yet as they talked quietly together, occasionally giggling to themselves, they looked completely carefree. They both had the same way of talking with their hands, spreading their arms wide and gesturing excitedly as they spoke. It was obvious, even from a distance, that they were family.

Dick suddenly feel deeply aware that he wasn’t really their family. They were all each other had in the world, and he was just someone who had taken them in. And now, he was about to try and separate them.

“Hey guys,” Dick said, pulling them out of their conversation to focus on him. He stepped into the room, Bruce following close behind. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” said Dante, turning his body away from Cisco and repositioning himself to face Dick.

As Bruce closed the door and then stood beside it Dick took Dante’s vacated chair. He pursed his lips, trying to think of what to say. Dante was looking between Dick and Bruce, his expression one of innocent curiosity. He did not suspect that they were about to suggest anything unpleasant.

“So, we’ve been trying to figure out what’s causing the trembling,” Dick began carefully.

“Did you find out how to stop it?” asked Cisco excitedly.

“Not yet,” Dick shook his head, “but we do have a . . . short term solution.”

“What kind of solution?” Dante asked, frowning slightly.

“It would just be temporary,” Dick assured him. “Just until we think of something better. It would help Cisco heal faster and prevent him from further injuring himself, and it would buy us more time to figure this out.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. Dick swallowed as he recognized the shrewd, calculating expression from when Dante helped him with interrogations. That look meant he was putting two and two together, figuring out what wasn’t being said based on what was.

“What’s the solution?” he asked warily.

Dick took a deep breath, steeling himself. “The League thinks it’s a good idea put Cisco in a stasis pod.”

“No,” said Dante immediately.

“Just for a little while,” Dick tried, but Dante interrupted him.

“I said no,” he insisted. “Tell them that’s our answer. I’m not putting my brother in a pod.”

“It’s not your call to make Dante,” Dick told him.

“No,” Dante shook his head, sharp and brief. “It’s yours, and you’re going to tell them no.”

“Actually it’s Cisco’s call,” Bruce interjected from behind the chair. “It’s his life, we’re not going to force anything on him he doesn’t want.”

Dante turned immediately to Cisco. “Tell them no,” he ordered. “Tell them you won’t do it.”

Cisco looked apprehensively from Dante, to Bruce, to Dick. He didn’t seem to know which of them he should be listening to. Finally he turned his attention to Dick.

“Do you think I should do it?” he asked nervously.

“No!” Dante’s voice rose as he turned back to Dick. “Tell him not to do it!”

“The League thinks it’s the best option,” Dick told him.

“What do  _ you _ think?” Cisco asked earnestly.

Dick hesitated. He glanced over his shoulder at Bruce, who looked down at him grimly. He looked over at Dante, staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. At last he took a deep breath and made a decision.

“I think this is the best solution we have right now,” Dick said. “It will help you heal and stop you from getting hurt again. That’s what’s important.”

Cisco chewed his lip a moment, thinking. “Ok,” he said, in a small voice. “I’ll do it.”

Dick nodded, trying to smile encouragingly. Then he looked over at Dante. He was ready for Dante to react badly to this. He was ready for tears and shouting and gnashing of teeth. He was even ready for Dante to flat out attack him, right there in the hospital. What he was not prepared for was that glare. Dante was glaring at him with such fury, such rage that the air went thick and heavy in Dick’s mouth. He looked like he was trying to set Dick on fire with his eyes, and if he’d had a metagene Dick thought he might have succeeded. Never had Dick seen Dante so angry, not even when the Reverse Flash was mentioned.

“Dante-” Dick said gently.

Dante brace himself on the bed and turned his body back towards Cisco. Dick opened his mouth to try again, but Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. When Dick looked up at him he shook his head. There was nothing he could say. Not right now.

As Dick left to go tell the others he struggled to identify the feeling in his heart. It felt like sadness, but worse. It felt like anger, but colder. It felt like being betrayed, but deeper and without the sense of righteous indignation. Eventually though, he realized what it was. Loss. He felt like he had just lost something very important, and he might never get it back.

He hoped the thing that he had lost was not his son.

***

Cisco had never actually been up to the watchtower. He was aware of it, as most people were, and he knew that Dante had been up there once, but he had never been there himself. As he stepped out of the zeta tube, one hand in Dick’s and Dante trailed behind them, he found himself staring open mouthed at the sheer scale of it. The main floor was enormous, the ceiling stretching high above and with room for all the League and the team to mill about comfortably. Most of them were there, and turned to him when he entered, making him shrink back against Dick’s side. He liked being the center of attention in class, but here was different.

Black Canary, whose name his knew was Dinah, came up to him and crouched down to his level. Cisco shut his gaping mouth hurriedly, trying not to look too embarrassed.

“Hi Cisco,” she said, in a voice that reminded him of his school psychologist. “You remember me, right?”

Cisco nodded.

“I know this is a little scary for you,” she said understandingly, “but we’re asking you to trust us when we say this is for the best. Can you do that?”

Cisco swallowed, then glanced up at Dick. He knew that if he looked back at Dante he would be glaring, but Dick gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. Cisco turned back to Dinah and nodded also.

“Good,” she held out a hand and Cisco took it. “Let’s go.”

The room that Dinah led him to was a little ways off the main floor. It wasn’t very big, with room for a control panel and a large tube against the far wall with a glass front. It reminded Cisco a little bit of a coffin, but rounded and upright. Again he fought the urge to look back at Dante.

Dinah went to the control panel and pushed a few buttons, and the glass front of the pod opened, letting out a cloud of white smoke like when he could see his breath in winter. Dick led the way to the pod and stopped in front of the open door. Cisco looked at the smoky interior of the pod, feeling a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. 

When Cisco did not immediately step inside, Dick crouched beside him. “You won’t feel anything,” he said. “You’ll just go to sleep, and when you wake up hopefully we’ll have the means to stop the trembling.”

“How long will I be asleep?” Cisco wondered.

“Not long,” Dick said. “And I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?” Cisco asked nervously.

“I promise.” Dick extended his pinky toward Cisco, and Cisco curled his own pinky around it. Both he and Dick kissed their thumbs, and then Dick knocked his forehead against Cisco’s. “It’s all going to be okay.”

At last Cisco gave in and looked over at Dante. He did not look happy at all, glaring angrily at Dick, but his eyes softened when they turned to Cisco. He took a deep breath, then gave a smile that was obviously forced.

“It’s ok,” he said, as reassuringly as could be expected. “I won’t leave you either.”

Cisco nodded, then turned back to the pod. He climbed over the lip along the bottom, then turned around so he was facing the rest of the room. With a hiss the door slid shut, obscuring his view with foggy glass. He squinted, trying to see, but the white smoke clouded around his head. He breathed it in. It tasted funny. His eyelids began to droop.

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the faint outline of Dante turning away.

***

Four days. Four days without Cisco. Four days without his baby brother there to help him with his math homework and turn the pages while he was learning a new piece and get into his stuff without asking permission. Already Dante was going completely crazy. He kept turning around expecting Cisco to be trailing after him like he always did, and feeling a jolt of panic when he wasn’t there. He hated it. This had to end.

“Do you have a way to stop the trembling yet?” he’d asked Dick on the morning of the third day.

Breakfast had become a subdued activity in the apartment with Cisco no longer there to chatter away about his latest project. Dick would ask him about piano, Dante would tell him what he was learning and Dick would ask him polite questions, but he never showed the same enthusiasm he did for technology. That was something he and Cisco had in common. Dick knew nothing about music.

“Not yet,” Dick had said, and hurriedly changed the subject.

They had told Cisco’s teachers that he had some kind of illness that required an extended hospital stay. Something about his bones. He’d been out so much lately no one questioned it. Dante wanted them to question. He wanted them to ask and find out and be horrified. He wanted them to be indignant on Cisco’s behalf. He wanted them to want Cisco back as much as he did.

Dick’s friends came over a lot, even more than they had before. Dante had grown to like many of them, but he didn’t want to see any of them now. They all tried to talk to him, but all he really wanted to do was play prestissimo, furioso pieces on the piano and be left alone.

“How are you holding up?” they would ask.

“Fine,” Dante would say, and keep playing. Eventually they learned to stop asking.

He still went on patrol, still trained with Dick and the rest of the family, but none of it seemed as important as before. If it meant anything it was just a good way to work out the anger that was constantly simmering beneath the surface. Criminals were convenient and satisfying targets for his rage, their squeals of terrors and the breaking of their bones like well-written concertos. He would attack the task at hand and let that consume him, but Dick didn’t seem to like it.

“More control, Dante,” he would call as Dante sparred with Tim or Barbara, using all his tricks, trying to out maneuver the bigger opponents.

Dante didn’t feel like being in control. He felt like losing himself, being so absorbed in the fight that nothing else mattered. He already felt like nothing else mattered. He already felt lost.

It was after training on the fourth day that he finally got some real news.

Once he was back in street clothes and not the clothes he wore to train, Dick seemed to have disappeared. Thinking that he might have followed Bruce down to the Batcave and seeing that no one else was around Dante took the elevator down into the cavern beneath the manor. The elevator was silent as it reached the floor of the cave, and Dante began to follow the sound of voices.

Once he was close enough to hear what they were saying though, he darted behind a bank of machinery before anyone could notice him.

“We have to do something about Dante,” Dick was saying, presumably to Bruce. “He’s losing his grip, and I don’t know how long before he goes completely off the rails.”

“One overly aggressive training session isn’t a breakdown,” Bruce’s voice came next.

“You don’t see him at home,” Dick replied. “He just plays angry-sounding music on the piano, one piece after another. He’s showing less restraint on patrol, behaving more brutally towards his enemies. He won’t talk to me, or anyone else. He keeps asking about Cisco and I don’t know what to tell him.”

“Tell him the truth,” Bruce said. “That we’re working on it.”

“What are we working on?” Dick shot back. “We’ve got nothing! The best theory we have is that we just need to wait it out, which means Cisco spending three months in that pod, with no guarantee that he’ll be better when he gets out.”

Dante’s heart dropped. The League had nothing? No theories, no leads, nothing they were working on? They were just going to leave Cisco in the pod? For  _ months? _

“We’re doing the best we can,” Bruce told him. “We have some time to figure this out.”

“I don’t know if Dante will last that long,” Dick said. “His moral compass . . . it’s always pointed toward Cisco. Removing that, I honestly don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Dante had officially heard enough. He crept as quietly as he could back to the elevator and went back upstairs, then made his way to the room where most of the gear was stored. The beginnings of a plan were forming in his mind as he sifted through gadgets, looking for the one that he wanted.

If Dick didn’t know what he was capable of, Dante would show him.

***

When Dante said he wanted to go see Cisco, Dick wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. Honestly he was impressed that Dante had waited this long. It had been the better part of a week since Cisco had been put in stasis, which was more time than Dick would have suspected Dante could go.

“We can’t wake him up,” Dick said gently.

“I know,” Dante assured him. “I just want to see him.”

“Any particular reason?” Dick asked.

“I want to make sure he’s ok,” Dante said.

Dick smiled fondly. “He’s got the whole League to protect him. I don’t think anything’s going to happen.”

“We promised we wouldn’t leave him,” Dante reminded him. “I just want to visit, just to see for myself that everything’s ok.”

Dick sighed. “Fine,” he said, “we’ll go.”

Dante wasn’t technically a member of the team, but he’d been programmed into the zeta tube system, including the one that led the the watchtower. Dick felt a strange sense of pride as the system announced Dante’s name. He had become a real hero, valued and respected despite his age. His self control was an issue, but he was young, and might still grow out of it. Dick knew that Dante’s control issues could very well grow with him, but Dick had dealt with control issues when he’d been Damian’s partner. He could deal with this now. He would be whatever Dante needed him to be. He would find a way.

The room that housed Cisco’s pod, which had quickly come to be called the sickroom, was deserted when they arrived. Dante went immediately to the pod, placing his hand on the glass front as though he could touch Cisco through it. Cisco had his eyes closed and was breathing evenly, inhaling the vaporized chemicals that kept him asleep while the pod kept his powers dormant.

“He hasn’t had an attack of trembling since he got here,” Dick said. “His life signs are stable. We haven’t even seen evidence of a vision, and we haven’t had any portals opening.”

“Is he dreaming?” Dante asked.

“Sensors would indicate brainwave activity consistent with dreams,” Dick admitted.

“I hope he’s having good dreams,” Dante said quietly.

The room was silent for a moment, Dante staring at the pod, Dick staring at Dante. Dick wasn’t sure how long Dante wanted to stay, but it didn’t seem right to ask now. Eventually his gaze drifted to Cisco. He seemed so peaceful, with his face relaxed and his eyes closed. He looked like he was just sleeping, just dreaming in bed or on the sofa, waiting for Dick and Dante to return from patrol.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Dante suddenly, drawing Dick’s attention back to him.

“About what?” Dick asked curiously.

“About what you said when I got sent to the principal’s office,” Dante said. “About how you’d always be on my side.”

“I meant it,” Dick said honestly. “I will always-”

“But you didn’t take my side against the League,” Dante cut him off. He was still looking at Cisco, but his voice had taken on a slight edge. “You took their side over mine about the pod.”

“Oh Dante,” Dick sighed, striding forward until he was level with Dante in front of the pod. He crouched down and took Dante’s shoulders, turning the little boy to face him.

“No,” said Dante, squirming. “You were-”

“Dante,” Dick repeated firmly. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but  _ was _ on your side.”

“I didn’t want this,” Dante insisted, jerking his head at the pod.

“But Cisco needed it,” Dick said. “I was doing what was best for him. For both of you.”

Dante shoved both his hands into his pockets petulantly, but went still. Dick let him go, letting his hands slide down along Dante’s arms to his wrists and then off. He’d never wanted to hug Dante so much in all the time they’d known each other, but he could tell that wasn’t what Dante needed.

“You still didn’t take my side,” Dante argued.

“I put you and what you love most above everything,” Dick countered. “Even your fear, even  _ my _ fear. That is the  _ definition _ of taking your side.”

Dante hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said finally, “doesn’t count.”

Dick exhaled a halfhearted laugh through his nose. “I know it feels that way now, but-”

“That’s ok though,” Dante said suddenly, smiling a strange smile that made Dick uneasy. “I don’t need you on my side.”

Dick opened his mouth, intending to ask what Dante meant by that. At that moment however, Dante drew his hand out of his pocket and slapped it against the side of Dick’s face. There was an explosion of thick blue smoke, which swirled as Dante somersaulted away. Dick coughed, already feeling lightheaded. Knockout gas.

“Dante,” he tried, but he was already too dizzy to get up. Dante had known what was coming, so he had enough time to evade. Dick had been caught by surprise.

The last thing Dick saw before he lost consciousness was Dante’s outline through the smoke.

“I can do it myself.”

***

Whatever else could be said about Bruce Wayne, he adored his grandchildren.

He adored his children too, but the grandkids he could spoil, as was his god given right as their grandfather. He’d given Dante a baby grand piano for the apartment, but he’d had the manor’s three grand pianos pulled out of storage, repaired and tuned so that Dante would like spending time at the manor. Cisco only had to mention that he needed a part and Bruce would get it for him, no matter how complex or what he wanted it for. Dick was already complaining that he was showing Dante moves he’d waited until Dick was older to teach him, and he kept quiet about the laptop Cisco had built that Dick didn't know about.

If any member of the League didn't know all that they still would have known he adored his grandchildren by how often he went to the sickroom. Three, four, sometimes five times a day, every day, without fail. He wouldn't stay long, just checking the pod and the monitors, but whenever he had a spare minute, or could create one, he would go.

So when he came up to the watchtower and Barry immediately informed him that Dante and Dick were in the sickroom, he decided that what he’d come to do could wait five minutes and went to go see them. He expected to find Dick and Dante looking at the pod. Dick might be explaining what the monitors were saying. At worst they might be arguing.

What he did not expect to find was Dick lying unconscious on the floor, no Dante, and an empty pod.

His instincts were screaming at him to go to Dick immediately, but he forced himself to backtrack a few steps and shout for Barry. As soon as Barry saw inside the room he was off like a shot, and Bruce went to kneel beside his oldest child.

“Dick,” he said urgently, shaking him. “Wake up!”

Dick did not stir. Bruce turned his head, and saw a smudge of blue on his cheek. He sniffed the air, smelling the faint remnants of knockout gas. His own formula.

“I need a shot of adrenaline,” Bruce said as Barry appeared in the doorway with Clark and Diana.

Barry zipped off again, this time returning with a small syringe. Bruce jammed the needle into Dick’s neck and pushed the plunger down, and with a full body jolt Dick jerked awake.

“Dante!” he gasped, gulping for air.

“What happened?” Bruce demanded. “Who attacked you?”

“Where’s Dante?” Dick asked instead of answering, looking wildly around the room.

“He must have been taken,” Bruce told him. “Who was it? How did they get into-”

“It was Dante who attacked me,” Dick explained, a little slower but still with a tangible sense of urgency. His eyes fell on the empty pod and he pulled away from Bruce, struggling to his feet by grabbing the open door and hauling himself up. He examined the vacant interior and let out a faint wounded noise.

“What happened?” Bruce insisted, standing up as he felt another rush of air behind himself that meant one of the other speedsters, probably Wally, had entered. “Explain.”

Dick turned to face the gathering crowd. “Dante was upset,” he recounted. “He felt betrayed because I argued in favor of the pod. When he wanted to come see Cisco I didn't think anything of it, but then . . .”

“What?” asked Wally’s voice from behind Bruce. “What happened?”

“He got me down to his level,” Dick said, like he was only now realizing something. “He’s so  _ clever, _ he . . . he got me into a vulnerable position and then set off a knockout smoke bomb right in my face. He must have opened the pod himself and gotten Cisco out, and then they portaled away.”

Bruce considered this. The situation was definitely not good. They had not yet found a limit to how far Cisco could go with the portals, meaning there was no telling how far the boys had gotten. They were almost certainly back on Earth, but they could be in any city. And they were vulnerable when they were alone.

“Oh god, they could be anywhere by now,” Dick ran a hand through his hair distractedly, eyes wide in horror as he stared into space.

“Calm down,” Wally came into Bruce’s field of view as he went to take Dick by the shoulders.

“How can I calm down?” Dick asked incredulously. “I lost them!”

“This is not your fault,” Wally said firmly. “Dante’s always been a handful but you had no way of knowing he’d pull a stunt like this.”

“They’re my kids,” Dick insisted. “I’m supposed to keep track of them!”

“Then  _ find _ them,” Bruce pulled Dick’s attention back onto himself. “Calm down and think. Where would they go?”

Dick took a deep, steadying breath and considered. “Dante . . . told me about a few places in Central City. Places he would go to get food, when he was in the foster house.”

“We’ll start with those,” Bruce said immediately. “You’ll go to the most likely one, and the rest of us will take the others.”

Dick nodded shakily. He looked wretched, shaking in Wally’s grip, his expression more vulnerable than Bruce had ever seen him.

“Dick,” said Bruce solemnly.

Dick looked up at him with a fragile sort of hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“We’ll find them.”

***

“Here,” said Dante, handing Cisco a tomato.

Cisco took it, but for a moment he just stared at it. He was hungry, but for some reason opening his mouth and taking a bite seemed a very distant idea. There was something in the way of it, something that told him he couldn’t eat the tomato. He struggled to connect one thought with another, feeling sluggish and slow, like his brain was full of fog. He’d recently been in a literal fog. Or had it been smoke? What was the difference again? And why couldn’t he eat the tomato?

Oh, right. The tomato didn’t belong to him.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Cisco asked, blinking rapidly like that would somehow clear the fog from his head.

“Of course,” said Dante, then bit into his own tomato. He chewed, swallowed, and went on. “The lady who grows this garden only comes in the early morning and late evening. She’s at work right now.”

Cisco stared out at the buildings around them. The cityscape of Central City had once been familiar, though he hadn’t seen it in some time. He’d also never seen it from an apartment building’s rooftop, where a few boxes of soil grew plump red tomatoes. He didn’t ordinarily like tomatoes, except diced up in other things, but he was famished, so he took a bite anyway. It was sweeter than he’d expected, and extremely juicy. The juice ran down his chin, and Dante laughed.

“Messy,” he said, wiping Cisco’s chin with his sleeve. Cisco couldn’t remember Dante finding messing eating funny before.

Cisco swallowed his bite of tomato and decided it was time to ask the question he’d been wanting to ask since they arrived.

“Why did we have to leave the watchtower in such a hurry?” he asked.

For a moment Dante didn’t answer, chewing a bite of tomato slowly. The fruit was soft, so Cisco knew he didn’t have to chew it that much. At last Dante swallowed.

“We can’t trust the League anymore,” he said, looking at Cisco seriously.

“What do you mean?” Cisco frowned. “Of course we can trust the League. They’re the good guys-”

“They’re not!” Dante nearly shouted, making Cisco lean back in alarm. Dante looked startled by Cisco’s reaction, then lowered his voice. “They’re not as good as they say they are.”

“What do you mean?” Cisco asked nervously.

“They lied about the pod,” Dante said harshly. “They didn’t have any idea how to help you and they weren’t working on anything. They were just going to leave you in there. For months.”

“Are you sure?” Cisco wondered. That did not seem like the Justice League at all.

“Positive,” Dante said decisively.

Cisco considered this. If the League had lied to him, that meant he couldn’t trust them. And if he couldn’t trust the League . . .

“What about Dick?” he asked. “And Bruce?”

“We can’t trust them either,” Dante told him. “They’re in on it, and I think they might have been planning to do something to me too.”

“What?” Cisco demanded in horror. “What were they going to do to you?”

“I’m not sure,” Dante admitted, “but they said I was out of control. I don’t know what they were going to do to control me, but I don’t like the idea.”

Cisco shook his head. He didn’t like the sound of it either.

“What are we going to do now?” Cisco asked.

“We’re running away,” Dante said. “We can portal back to the apartment while Dick is on patrol tonight, and get some stuff.”

“Do you think he’ll go on patrol if we’ve run away?” Cisco mused.

“Definitely,” Dante said. “He’ll be looking for us in Gotham. He won't think to look for us in Central City.”

“Give me a little more credit than that,” said a voice from behind Cisco.

Dante leaped to his feet and Cisco scrambled to follow, turning as he did so. Dick was climbing up onto the roof off the fire escape, his movements leisurely, like he’d been there a while. He was dressed as Nightwing, which looked odd in the bright golden light of Central City. He looked almost nervous. Cisco couldn't remember him looking nervous since the day he’d told them he wanted them to live with him.

Dante pushed Cisco behind him. “Stay back!” he shouted, pulling out Menace.

“Dante,” Dick began slowly, holding up both hands. “I didn't come to fight.”

“Then stay over there are we won't,” Dante growled.

“I just wanna talk,” Dick went on, still slow and careful.

“Liar!” Dante spat. “You want to take us back!”

“I do,” Dick admitted. “I want you both to come home. You scared me, taking off like that.”

Cisco felt his gut twist. He hated the idea of making Dick afraid, making him worry, after all he’d done for them. Then he shook himself. Dick was a liar. He deserved to be afraid.

“Too bad,” Dante shot back. “We’re not going.”

“What’s your plan then?” Dick spread his arms wide. “Live on the street? Sleep under a bridge? Live off stolen tomatoes?”

“If we have to,” Dante said defensively.

“You really want that?” Dick asked. “For Cisco?”

“Better than being in a pod forever!” Dante snarled.

“The pod is not forever,” Dick countered gently. “It’s just for a few months, until-”

“You can figure something out,” Dante finished for him. “Except you’re not figuring it out. Your plan was to wait it out and see if the trembling stopped on its own! What if it didn't? Were you going to put him back in, for longer next time?”

“No,” said Dick firmly. “That wouldn't have happened. If this doesn't work Cisco will never go back in a pod, I promise.”

“Just like you promised to always be on my side?” Dante demanded.

Dick hesitated, looking torn. “I tried to be,” he said after a moment. “Maybe I didn't do the best job. But I swear, when you come back the wait it out idea comes off the table. We will find a solution-”

“Too late,” Dante cut him off.

“Dante,” said Dick, still gentle but with a slight edge now. “You  _ are  _ coming back to Gotham. I’m responsible for you, I can't just let you be on the street.”

“That’s your problem,” Dante said harshly.

“Dante please,” Dick said earnestly, “don't turn this into a fight. Please come home.”

“Your house is not my home,” Dante spat.

Dick looked stricken. “Dante-” he whispered, but Dante had apparently had enough. He let Menace fly, slinging the body of the yo-yo full of all its heavy mechanical parts at Dick’s head.

Faster than blinking Dick had a baton out, and Menace was glancing harmlessly off the side. Dante flicked his wrist and the yo-yo returned to his hand.

“Dante don't do this,” Dick pleaded, but Dante was already running towards him across the rooftop.

Cisco backed away as the two of them began to trade blows. Dante had learned over the last few months how to use his size to his advantage, and he put everything he had mastered into driving Dick back and away from Cisco. Dick gave a little ground, obviously struggling not to hurt Dante, despite the number of times Dante tried to bring Menace down hard on his skull. Cisco could tell what Dante was trying to do. He wanted to drive Dick over the other side of the rooftop, force him over the edge and into the alley below. He wanted Dick to fall.

Eventually though, Dick began to press Dante back toward the edge of the roof where Cisco was.

Dante let out a feral cry and leaped backwards, launching himself off Dick’s body. He landed in a crouch, but Dick straightened, farther away than he’d been before but still nowhere near the edge.

“This is crazy!” he called loudly. “I’m not your enemy!”

“Then leave us alone!” Dante screamed, and let Menace fly again.

This time Dick did not knock the yo-yo out if the way. He stepped to the side, easy as breathing, and when it was extended to full length he brought the baton down on the cord. The body looped a few times around the baton and then fell to hang limply below it.

Dante jerked on the cord, but the Menace would not return to his hand. Dick pulled back, and the string slipped off Dante’s finger and fluttered toward Dick.

“It’s over,” said Dick firmly. “Come home and we can talk-”

“There’s nothing left to talk about!” Dante retorted, then turned to Cisco. “Open a portal,” he said urgently. “Somewhere safe.”

“Cisco don't do it,” Dick said, and his voice was pained and pleading. “Please, please just trust me. Believe me when I say that I am trying to protect you.”

Cisco turned around and reached his hand over the side of the roof. He summoned up his concentration, trying to focus on the feeling of being safe, and a jet of blue energy shot from his hand. It pooled a few feet below, horizontal above the alley floor.

“Wait!” yelled Dick, panicked, but Cisco was already leaping over the side of the roof, feeling Dante close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you cannot imagine my unbridled glee as i read all your lovely comments about how you loved dick taking dante's side against the principal, all the while knowing what i was about to do. it's all rather in the spirit of "dammit hedgi!" day, but ironically it was i who came up with this particular twist. hedgi approved.


	6. Tremors Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks goes to hedgi this chapter because she helped me write the dialogue for jason's scene. be sure to thank her for that, and let us know in the comments what you thought of jason!

Jason didn't really know what it was with criminals and construction sites, but there sure did seem to be a connection.

Case in point, Dr. Harrison Wells, who had come to this particular construction site to collect blood samples from the kidnapped metahuman children he had hidden in a secret tunnel beneath the foundation. He was the genius behind the new metahuman detection technology, the current toast of the science world. What most people didn't know was that it had been so easy for him to develop the technology because he’d been supplying the criminal underworld with the means to detect dormant metagenes for years. It was a lot simpler to study metahumans when you abducted unwilling test subjects no one would miss.

The good doctor was now suspended almost a hundred feet in the air, dangling upside down by one ankle with a length of metal cord wrapped none too securely around it.

“Please,” he called into the dark, “please, you’re making a mistake-”

“If you’re wondering what happened to the bunch of metahuman kids you stashed here, they’re all on their way home,” Jason interrupted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wells tried desperately.

“Cut the crap Harry,” Jason said, in a tone that suggested he didn't really care what Wells did. “They all ID’d you. If it were my style I’d have enough to put you away for life.”

Wells swallowed audibly. “I have a daughter-” he began, voice pleading.

“And I have a nephew,” Jason cut him off. “The difference between us is I’m not trying to ruin your daughter’s life.”

“I’ll leave him alone!” Wells promised, nodding as much as he could without jostling himself. “I have connections, I can make sure no one goes near him!”

“Why bother when I can just dismantle your organization?” Jason asked conversationally. “That’s much more satisfying.”

He kicked at the industrial winch by his boot, and Wells dropped a few feet with a jolt.

“I can fake the machines!” he screamed, terrified. “I can alter them so they won't detect him!”

“Oh I expect that’s already being dealt with by the rest of the family,” Jason assured him. “Really, the only question left is what gets done about you. And that’s a question I get to answer.”

Wells went as pale as a man with all the blood rushing to his head could go. “I can give you information-”

“I don't think you have anything that’s of interest to me,” Jason informed him. He pulled out a knife and began to toss it lazily between his hands. “You’re all out of bargaining chips. And I’m guessing you know me by reputation.”

The look on Wells’ face said that he was, in fact, familiar with Red Hood’s reputation.

“The thing is,” Jason went on, holding the knife by two fingers and swinging it idly back and forth, “that among my dear nephew’s myriad of loosely connected and poorly explained powers is the ability to see things going on in other places and, occasionally, the future. So I can never really be sure the little tykebomb’s not watching me. He looks up to me, see, so I gotta set an example. Which means not killing your sorry ass.”

Wells let out a sigh of relief so audible it was almost a whimper.

“On the other hand,” Jason threw the knife up in the air and caught it, “you scared the crap outta him with those metahuman detection devices you’ve been threatening to make. Even made him cry, if you can imagine that. And that pisses me off.”

“I’m sorry,” Wells began immediately, “I’ll-”

“On the other other hand,” Jason continued as though Wells hadn't said anything, “if I do kill you Wonderboy might not want me around his kids anymore. Or worse, the kids might not want me around. Kids are sensitive like that.”

Wells didn't seem to know what to say to that, so he remained silent. Deciding he didn't like that Jason kicked the winch again, and Wells dropped another few feet with a satisfyingly loud scream.

“Stuck to the other tentacle,” Jason pointed the knife at Wells, “ _ you _ are a threat to them, no matter which way you slice it. And there’s only one way to eliminate that threat so you can never hurt them again.”

“I won’t,” Wells said immediately, “you have my word as a scientist-”

“A scientist?” Jason repeated. “You’re human trafficking scum. Your practices are unethical, your results are destructive, your science is bad and you should feel bad!”

Another kick to the winch had Wells shrieking again, falling down almost to Jason’s eye level where he was perched on a support beam halfway up the skeletal structure.

“At the end of the day though,” Jason sighed, “I’m trying to make a resolution to be better, for them. And that means making tough calls like this. So tonight, Harry, is your lucky night.”

Wells really did whimper this time, and Jason tried to take all the satisfaction he’d have gotten from killing the scumbag from that sound. He was about to kick the winch again, letting Wells down by incremental drops, when suddenly the dulcet tones of “Pretty Girl Rock” began emanating from his pocket. Intrigued, Jason fished his phone from out of his jacket. Dick should be on patrol this time of night.

“‘Sup Wonderboy?” Jason said in greeting. “You don't usually call at this-”

“Jason,” Dick interrupted, and Jason was suddenly on high alert. Dick sounded utterly  _ broken _ , his voice weak and his breaths ragged. He sounded like he’d been crying, of all things.

“What happened?” Jason demanded. “Is everyone ok?”

“Cisco and Dante,” Dick said, and Jason’s heart dropped.

“What happened to the boys?” he asked urgently.

“I tried to bring them home,” Dick replied, voice rising in pitch and speed, “but Dante was so upset and we fought and then they ran-”

“They ran away from you?” Jason repeated incredulously.

Immediately he did a mental inventory of all the things he’d done recently that might have frightened Cisco or Dante into distrusting their family. Nothing jumped out at him. Unless of course . . .

“I didn't even finish the scumbag!” Jason protested loudly, shooting an accusatory glance at Wells.

“Nothing you did,” Dick assured him hurriedly. “It was me.”

“What did you do?” Jason asked in disbelief. Admittedly he didn't keep terribly close tabs on Dick’s life, especially since his investigation into the metagene detectors had taken him to Central City, but he couldn't imagine the original boy wonder doing anything to frighten his kids.

“Cisco’s powers, they were  _ hurting _ him, and we thought-” There was a pause, then- “We need to talk in person. I only want to explain once.”

“I’m coming to you,” Jason replied, “but if you did anything to get them hurt you are in for a world of pain.”

Jason could practically hear Dick wincing through the phone, and he pressed the button to end the call before Dick could reply. He couldn't imagine Dick doing anything to make the boys run from him, but apparently it had happened. They would have to be in a pretty bad headspace to do a thing like that. Out of all the members of their family, Jason could probably understand that best.

“Hey,” called Wells, drawing Jason’s attention back to him. “What about me? Aren't you going to let me down?”

Jason turned back to him with weary sigh. “Bad news Harry,” he said. “I got a family emergency. Which means I don't have time to wait around for the cops to find the mountain of evidence I’ve laid out for them. Instead, we’re going to finish this now.”

“Please,” Wells began immediately, “please, I’ll do anything-”

Jason drew a gun from his belt and pointed it straight between Wells’ eyes.

“Guess this wasn't your lucky night after all.”

***

The next day dawned cold and gray in Central City. Dante was disappointed. He distinctly remembered his old home as being a city of golden sunlight, not this drab and dreary place where the sky couldn’t seem to decide whether or not it wanted to rain. He supposed he could remember rainy days before, but he thought the sun might have had the decency to shine for their homecoming.

Cisco didn't seem to like it any more than he did. He emerged from small space beneath the low bridge where they’d spent the night and looked at the sky with some trepidation. It might have been stupid, hiding under a bridge after Dick had specifically asked if they would do so, but it was all Dante could think of. Originally Cisco had portaled to their old house, but he knew that if Dick thought to look in Central City he’d think to look there. Dante was not going to underestimate him again. He had half a mind to go to his old foster house and see if they could hide under a bed, but he’d sworn to himself he’d never go back there even if things with Dick didn’t work out.

Now that they officially hadn’t worked out, he wasn’t going back on his word.

“I’m hungry,” Cisco announced once they were out on the street again.

Dante’s stomach gave an answering rumble, and he pressed a hand to his belly. They’d both put on a little weight since coming to Gotham, but Dante’s was mostly muscle and Cisco was hitting a growth spurt. They would need a stable source of food, immediately. Stealing from rooftop gardens wasn’t going to cut it.

“The school I went to when I was in the foster house gave free breakfast to poor kids,” Dante said. “If we slip into line no one should notice us.”

“What if someone recognizes us from all those videos Dick put online?” Cisco asked nervously.

“Then we tell them the truth,” Dante said, glancing over at Cisco as they rounded a corner. “It didn’t work out. Foster homes don’t work out all the time.”

“Sometimes they do though,” said a voice up ahead.

Dante’s eyes snapped forward again. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking their way, was Kid Flash in full uniform. Despite how he was dressed, he did not look particularly impressive. His shoulders sagged slightly, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he’d been up all night.

Dante immediately grabbed Cisco’s hand and yanked him into a nearby alley. Wally called something after them, but Dante’s heart was pounding too loudly to hear it properly. The street was crowded, so they had to push past a few confused onlookers to reach the mouth of the alley.

“Open a portal!” he shouted, not bothering to check if Wally was following.

Cisco put out a hand in front of himself, and a swirling blue portal opened directly in their path. They sprinted through it, and Dante felt the familiar sense of running through water only a moment before he found himself on what appeared to be a rooftop. He could still hear Wally’s voice shouting for them to come back, but when he looked around the portal had closed behind them.

He went to look over the edge of the building, to find the alley they had just left down below. Wally was still there, looking helplessly around as though he might find some clue as to where the portal had taken them.

“I’m sorry,” Cisco whispered. “I only had enough energy for a short jump.”

“That’s ok,” Dante whispered back, “we lost him.”

“Did you though?” asked a voice from behind them.

Cisco and Dante whirled around, to find the Flash standing in the center of the rooftop, hands on his hips and a disapproving expression on his face.

“I think you two have run far enough,” he said, as if he were reprimanding them for staying out late. “Dick’s worried sick about you two. It’s time you went home.”

Dante opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly there came a buzzing noise from beside him. He looked over to see that Cisco had begun to vibrate, the edges of his body blurring with the intensity. Dante fought not to panic, trying to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve Cisco using his powers, which he could not do during an attack of trembling.

“Steady now,” Barry said, holding up both hands. “I’m just going to run you back up the watchtower.”

“No!” Dante shouted, but Barry had already become a red blur racing toward them. Dante suddenly found himself lifted off his feet and tucked under Barry’s arm, Cisco tucked beneath the other.

“Easy does it,” Barry said, clearly struggling to keep his grip on Cisco. “We don’t want to-”

Before Barry could finish his sentence, Dante was already winding up to elbow him in the groin. He never got the chance. All of a sudden a shockwave like from a bomb going off hit Barry from the other side, and he and Dante went flying. Barry let go of Dante in the blast, and Dante hit the rooftop and rolled. The rough concrete scraped against his skin in several places, and he banged his head more than once.

He came to stop just beside the edge, then immediately raised his head to see what had caused the shockwave. The only thing he could see was Cisco, sprawled on the rooftop right where Barry had been standing, and where he’d evidently been dropped. Both his palms were scraped from where he’d landed on them, and there was a nasty piece of split skin on his temple where he’d hit his head.

He was no longer trembling.

Dante heard Barry groaning as though in pain beside him and leaped up. He was stiff and sore but he forced himself to stand and dart forward. He grabbed Cisco by the hand and pulled him to his feet, then began tugging him towards the fire escape.

“Kids!” Barry called, but Dante did not stop. He shoved Cisco ahead of himself and the two of them began clambering down the fire escape as quickly as they could.

Once they were halfway down, Dante heard Barry’s footfalls on the ladder above them. There was something odd about them though. It took Dante a second to realize what it was, but when he glanced up sure enough he could see that Barry was not moving so fast he was a red blur. He was coming down the fire escape no faster than an ordinary person could.

“We’ll never make it!” Cisco cried in distress. “He’s too fast!”

“No he’s not!” Dante replied, shoving him in the back. “Keep moving!”

When they reached the alley below Wally was not there, having evidently gone to look for them elsewhere. Cisco and Dante hit the ground running, heading for the mouth of the alley. Barry was a few steps behind them, but that was all they needed to join hands and worm their way into the crowd. By the time Barry reached the street, they had disappeared into the tangle of legs, skirts and briefcases.

They were two streets over before Dante let them stop for breath.

“Do you think . . . he’s still . . . following us?” Cisco asked, gasping.

“I don’t . . . know,” Dante admitted, also breathing hard. “But I . . . don’t think . . . he’ll catch . . . up.”

“Why?” Cisco asked, straightening from where he’d been leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

Dante straightened also. “Because his powers were gone.”

“What?” Cisco demanded, staring with wide eyes.

“Whatever that shockwave was, it did something to him,” Dante said. “He couldn’t run faster than a normal person anymore. Didn’t you hear him coming down the fire escape? He couldn’t run down the side of the building to get ahead of us.”

“So his speed is gone?” Cisco realized. “Will it come back?”

“I don’t know,” Dante said. “But I know it’s gone because of that shockwave. What was it? Did you see?”

“Um,” Cisco looked down at his feet. He scuffed his shoe on the alley floor.

“What?” Dante pressed curiously.

“I think it was me,” Cisco confessed sheepishly.

Dante blinked. “You?”

“Yeah,” Cisco nodded. “I was feeling the vibrations, and they hurt, like the always do. Then he picked me up, and I was scared. Then suddenly they were . . . outside me. It felt like when you’re holding in a scream and then you let it out, but with my whole body. Then he dropped me, and when I looked up he was on the other side of the roof.”

“So  _ you _ did it,” Dante breathed.

“I’m sorry,” Cisco said hurriedly, tears welling up in his eyes, “I-”

“No,” Dante shook his head vehemently. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t ask for this.”

Cisco sniffled, but nodded. “What now?”

Dante thought for a moment. This . . . complicated matters. If the League came to the same conclusion that they had, this would no longer be about getting back Nightwing’s children. This would be about making sure that a very powerful weapon didn’t fall into the wrong hands. That meant they would be more desperate than ever to get Cisco back. They would be out in full force, combing the city for any sign of either of them.

“Now,” Dante sighed wearily, “we get the hell out of Central City.”

***

“You’re certain that’s what happened?” Bruce asked as the doctor drew yet more blood from Barry’s arm.

Barry winced as the needle was jabbed into his skin. “Positive. It was definitely Cisco.”

It was a good thing med bay on the watchtower was designed to accommodate a large number of injured superheroes, because half the League were crowded around Barry’s bed. Wally and Bart were standing closest, both on one side of the bed while the doctor stood on the other. They both looked pale and drawn, practically sick with worry as they looked at their mentor lying powerless in a hospital bed. Dick felt for them. He was sick with worry about his family too.

“How is that even possible?” Dick asked no one in particular. “How could Cisco have taken away his powers?”

“Honestly?” asked the doctor on a weary sigh. “I have no idea. As far as I can tell there’s nothing medically wrong with him, but there’s nothing medically remarkable either. No rapid cell regeneration, no atypical heartbeat, no signs of superspeed at all.”

“ _ Why _ would he do a thing like this though?” Oliver wondered.

“Hey!” Bart snapped defensively. “Don't blame Cisco! He got scared, and we have no reason to think he knew this would happen!”

“It does complicate things though,” Clark said contemplatively.

“What do you mean?” Wally asked. “This doesn't change anything-”

“It changes everything,” Bruce corrected.

“Uh, how?” Bart asked. “We still have to get them back, that’s priority numero uno.”

“But now we know we won't be the only ones looking,” Dick said.

Bart blinked. “What?”

“The Reverse Flash cultivated this power for a reason,” Bruce explain. “Now we know what it was.”

“But he’s locked up!” Wally protested.

“But he had allies,” Dick replied. “Allies he may have told about this. We have to assume . . . The Light, may know about Cisco. They may know what he can do.”

“And you can bet they know he’s missing,” Bruce finished.

“We can't allow a power like this to fall into the Light’s hands,” J’onn said seriously. “If he can take away Flash’s powers, there’s no telling what else he can do. He may be able to render any metahuman powerless.”

“We can’t allow  _ my kids _ to fall into the Light’s hands,” Dick said sharply.

“No one’s saying that doesn't matter,” Dinah said placatingly, “but we have to take into account-”

“That the bad guys will be after them too,” Dick finished for her. “That’s important, but I will  _ not _ have us thinking of Cisco as a weapon. He’s a seven year old boy, who’s in more danger than he or his brother understand. He and Dante are running scared, scared of  _ us,  _ and how we approach this determines everything.”

“He’s right,” Bruce said. “We’ve handled this badly. We’ve focused too much on Cisco’s powers and not enough on Cisco. That’s why we're in this mess.”

There was silence for a few moments. Dick was willing to bet they were all thinking the same thing he was. Cisco and Dante didn’t trust them, and they only had themselves to blame for that. They had ignored the boys’ fear and now they were paying for it. Dick could barely think of what Cisco and Dante were going through now, of what they might go through if they were found by the wrong people, and all because of him.

If only he could go back and do it again. If only he’d known then what he knew now.

“If we don't find Cisco, I might never get my speed back,” Barry said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “But honestly? I’d trade it to have those boys safe in a heartbeat.”

Wally gave Barry an approving look, and Bart nodded decisively at the rest of the League.

“For that they need to trust us again,” Dick said, “and that won't happen until we have a solution to the trembling.”

“Actually,” Barry replied, “I might have one.”

There was a general murmur of surprise, and Dick’s heart leaped. If Barry knew how to stop the trembling, then Cisco wouldn’t have to go back in the pod. Dick could tell Dante, honestly, that it would never happen again, and he could offer an alternative, not just a vague promise that they would someday have one.

“Cisco started trembling right after I found them,” Barry went on. “I figured I had to get him to the pod as fast as I could before he hurt himself, so I picked him up. Then he blasted me and I dropped him.”

Dick tried not to think of how much Cisco might have gotten hurt from even a short drop while he was already trembling, and kept listening.

“When I looked up though, he had stopped trembling,” Barry said. “How long has the shortest episode been? Half an hour? This one lasted less than a minute.”

“Less than a minute,” Dick repeated in awe.

“It has to have been the blast,” Barry insisted. “That stopped it somehow.”

“We theorized that his power was turning inward and that was hurting him,” Dinah said, frowning in concentration. “What if they were turning inward because they were meant to turn  _ outward _ , but Cisco didn’t know how to do that yet?”

“All that pent up energy had to go somewhere,” Diana concurred. “If it wasn’t released, then it had to rebound upon him.”

“Which means the pod would have just made it worse,” Dick said in horror. “It suppressed his powers, just let the energy build up even more.”

“If we’d let him out of that pod after three months . . .” Bruce let the sentence hang in the air, none of them wanting to finish it.

Dick swallowed. “Dante . . . Dante saved him.”

“And quite possibly all of us,” Oliver added.

“He’s a good brother,” Bruce said, taking a few steps closer to Dick. He put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, but Dick flinched away.

Dante had been right. He’d been right all along, and Dick had ignored him. He thought he’d known what the kids needed, but even a nine year old had known better than him. He’d acted too soon, without understanding what was going on, and he’d actually ended up  _ hurting _ them. The two most precious people in his life, and he’d done more damage to them than even Reverse Flash had managed. Now they were in danger, alone and vulnerable and at risk of being abducted by the Light, and it was all his fault.

“Dick,” said Bruce quietly.

Dick did not answer him. Instead he turned and left the room, pushing through the crowd of heroes to get to the door. He walked briskly out onto the deserted main floor of the watchtower, needing to be alone, needing to not have all their eyes upon him. His breath was coming in huge gulps, and he couldn’t seem to slow it down. The room began to tilt strangely on its axis, and Dick felt like he were sliding off the edge of the world.

“Don’t have a panic attack Dickiebird,” said a voice from behind him. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

Dick turned, to find Jason, Barbara and Tim all standing behind him. They made quite an imposing picture, all in full uniform, although Jason was without his helmet. However, they all wore identical looks of concern. They were worried about him. They were busy worrying about him when they should be focused on the boys, and he felt more wretched than ever.

Jason took a few steps forward and took Dick by the shoulders. “Deep breaths,” he instructed. “We’ll get through this.”

“Will we?” Dick asked desperately. “Because I don't think I’ve ever screwed up this bad before.”

“The upside of being the family screw-up is I know how bad it can get,” Jason told him seriously. “I know what you can’t come back from. This? Totally fixable.”

“How?” Dick wondered. “Cisco and Dante are afraid of me. After what I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” Barbara said firmly. “You’ve been taking care of them for months. You’ve been their rock, after everything they’ve been through. Dante looks up to you, like a-”

“A what?” Dick cut her off. “For months I’ve been thinking of myself as their guardian, their protector, hell even their father. But when the time came it was Dante who knew what Cisco needed, not me.”

“So, what, you think the nine year old is a better parent than you?” Tim said skeptically. “Get real Dick. You’ve done a great job with them.”

“Not a good enough job to avoid this,” Dick countered.

“You’re going to find them,” Barbara insisted. “You’re going to get them back. Dante will be mad for a while but you’ll figure it out, and the three of you will recover from this.”

“And if the Light finds them before I do?” Dick demanded.

“The tykebombs are tough,” Jason said. “You taught Dante pretty well from what I’ve seen. He can hold out until you come for them.”

“They shouldn’t have to hold out,” Dick said. “They shouldn’t have to be in this kind of danger-”

“They’re involved in our world,” Tim interrupted, “and that means a certain degree of danger. That wasn’t a decision you made, but you helped them deal with it. You’ve-” he looked aside as though embarrassed, “-you’ve always been a good older brother. You’ve always helped me deal with things, always supported me. Always been there when I needed you.”

“Aw, babybird!” Jason cooed, but Barbara elbowed him in the ribs.

Tim looked back at Dick, his eyes hard and determined. “I know that you’ve been a good dad or guardian or whatever to those boys. So stop beating yourself up and  _ take care of them! _ ”

Dick took a deep, steadying breath. He knew that Tim was right. He had to stay calm and focus, for the boys. He had to save them. It didn’t matter if afterward they never wanted to see him again, he had to get them out of danger. That was what mattered. That was what was important.

“They won’t stay in Central City,” he said, after a moment. “They know we’ll be looking for them there, and they’ve had two encounters there already. They’ll go somewhere they’ve never been before and try to figure it out from there.”

“Looks like you’re right,” said a voice from the door. All four of them turned, to see Bruce striding purposefully into the room.

“How do you know?” Jason asked with narrowed eyes.

“A report just came in,” Bruce told Dick. “Sportsmaster’s in Metropolis.”

“What does that have to do with-” Dick began, but Bruce spoke over him.

“He’s been spotted in a public park,” he said, “trying to corner two little boys.”

Dick turned and headed for the zeta tube without another word. He heard the footfalls of everyone else behind him, but he couldn’t have cared one way or the other. A single minded purpose was driving him, nearly blocking out everything else. His boys were in danger, and he had to save them

He was going to get them back.

***

In hindsight, Metropolis might not have been the best idea.

It had  _ seemed _ like a good idea at the time. Metropolis was one of wealthiest cities in the country, meaning that it had plenty of programs to help the poor and homeless. It was clean, and bright, and had a low crime rate so they were less likely to be hassled when Dante was without Menace. Clark might be a problem, what with his super hearing that might be used to find them, but he spent much of his time away helping other superheroes, and counted on his fearsome reputation to keep the city safe. Metropolis had seemed like a safe bet.

It seemed like less of a safe bet when the first public park they visited to while away the afternoon also happened to contain Sportsmaster.

“Come on boys,” said the supervillain as they backed away. “We’re all friends here.”

“You’re not our friend!” Dante snapped, pushing Cisco behind him.

“I could be,” said Sportsmaster in what Cisco supposed was meant to be an innocent tone of voice. “I could take you to meet some of my friends. They’re just  _ dying _ to meet you.”

Cisco glanced behind himself, looking for a way out. They were backed up against a large rectangular fountain, precisely in the middle, so it wouldn’t be quicker to go around either side. It was deep, and the sides were tall. They’d have to climb over it and wade through the water, whereas Cisco was willing to bet that Sportsmaster could take the whole thing in a single leap.

“Leave us alone!” Dante snarled. Cisco could see his hand straying to his belt, where Menace was usually secured. In this case though, Dante had no long range weapon, and his opponent was bigger, stronger and probably better trained.

“You’ve got one chance kids,” Sportsmaster said harshly. “You come with me now, or I-”

“Hold that thought,” said a voice, interrupting his threat.

Sportsmaster turned around, obviously annoyed, but the words had not come from behind him. Or at least, not only from behind him. Down from above swooped Red Robin, hitting Sportsmaster with a flying kick to the head and knocking him backwards. He stumbled a few steps closer to Cisco and Dante, but righted himself as Tim landed gracefully on the ground.

There was a noise of boots hitting stone, and Cisco turned to see Jason landing on the edge of the fountain beside him. On his other side was Barbara, and both of them were dressed in full costume. Cisco had a sudden moment of panic, wondering if she or Jason would grab him and Dante, but neither of them paid him any attention. They both launched themselves at Sportsmaster, until he was facing off against three opponents.

“Now’s our chance!” Dante hissed.

He grabbed Cisco’s hand and took off around the edge of the fountain. Cisco lost track of the fight and who was winning as he struggled to keep up with Dante. There was a copse of trees on the other side, and Dante headed for those. It wasn’t much of a hiding spot, but it beat being out in the open. Just as they were about to reach the treeline though, a figure leaped down from one of the trees to land in their path.

Dick, dressed as Nightwing, now stood between them and the only shelter.

Dante growled, low and angry. “I told you to leave us alone!”

“Dante listen to me,” Dick said urgently. “You and Cisco are in danger. You have to-”

“I don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” Dante shot back. “We don’t need you!”

“You think that because you’re angry with me,” Dick said, “and I understand that. I don’t blame you for being mad, after what I did. I don’t blame you for not trusting me.”

“Then get out of our way!” Dante snarled.

“But I need you to trust me,” Dick went on, “one more time, when I say that we’ve found a solution to the trembling.”

Cisco tightened his grip on Dante’s hand, feeling his heart swell with hope. Dick had a solution? One that didn’t involve the pod? He’d kept his promise to figure something out?

Dante was not so easily convinced. “I don’t believe you!” he shouted. “You’re just saying that because you want us to go with you!”

“You knew from the beginning that the pod was a bad idea,” Dick said. “I should have listened to you, and now I know why. Cisco’s powers have been turning inward because he didn’t know how to turn them outward, and the pod only bottled them up even more. It was a mistake and I see that now.”

“What’s your solution then?” Dante asked warily.

“Training,” Dick said simply. “We use the League’s resources and experience to figure out how to tap into Cisco’s powers voluntarily, and then he trains to use them in a controlled way. That should be enough to prevent his power from building up again. It’ll be hard, but we’ll figure it out together.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Dante demanded. “You lied to us before, to me  _ and _ Cisco!”

“Cisco,” Dick turned to him, and Cisco shrank back against Dante’s side. “I know you have no reason to believe me. I tried to help and I just made things worse. But I know how to help you now, and that’s all I want to do.”

Cisco swallowed. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so badly, more than he’d ever wanted anything. More than he’d wanted to be in the same grade as Dante. More than he wanted to build things. More than he wanted to be useful. He wanted to trust Dick. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

“All I have ever wanted to do was help you,” Dick said, and his voice was trembling. He sounded like he might cry. “I want to guide you and teach you and protect you. I want you to master your powers and become someone great and  _ not need me anymore _ , but for right now you do need me and I want to be there for you.”

Dick knelt in the grass and held out a hand to Cisco and Dante. “Please let me,” he said quietly, voice still shaking. “Please?”

Cisco looked at Dante. Dante looked . . . confused. He did not seem to know what to do. He looked at Dick, then at Cisco, then down at the ground. It was that uncertainty more than anything that told Cisco what he had to do.

“Dante,” Cisco whispered, low enough that only his brother could hear him.

Dante looked back at Cisco questioningly.

“I trust him,” Cisco said earnestly.

“Are you sure?” Dante asked, just as quietly.

“He made a mistake,” Cisco said. “He says he knows how to help now.”

“He could be lying,” Dante reminded him. “He lied before, about the League working on something to help. They were just going to leave you in there.”

“I believe him,” Cisco insisted. “I think he’s telling the truth. He’s done that lots of times too.”

“What if he  _ is _ lying?” Dante wanted to know. “What then?”

Cisco shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to have a little faith.”

“Why?” Dante demanded exasperatedly.

Cisco bit his lip, trying to put what he was feeling into words. “Because I don’t want to believe that the world is only bad guys. There has to be some good in it. Right?”

Dante hesitated. He looked back at the fountain, and Cisco turned to see Jason securing Sportsmaster and Tim and Barbara watching them. They looked anxious, but they were keeping their distance. They didn’t want to take Cisco and Dante by force. They might if they had to, but they didn’t  _ want _ to do it. Instead they waited for the scene to play out, waited for Cisco and Dante to make a decision.

Dante turned back to Cisco, and gave a weak, uncertain smile. “Right,” he said, then frowned. “But the next time he says the word pod, we are  _ out _ .”

“Deal,” said Cisco, then set off across the grass toward Dick.

He and Dante did not let go of each other’s hands. Instead Cisco towed Dante behind him, feeling Dante’s reluctant steps dragging him backward. It was different than being tugged around by Dante, different than the last few days of running away from things. Now he was going toward something, and the feeling of miserable helplessness that always accompanied the trembling, that had been with him the last two days, began to lift.

Dick seemed to be holding his breath as the two of them came towards him. When Cisco was standing in front of him he reached out and touched Cisco’s cheek, his gloved hand rough on Cisco’s skin. His breath, when it came, was shaky, but his smile was relieved and his eyes were bright.

“Thank you,” he said softly, then looked at Dante. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I don’t,” said Dante harshly, and Dick physically recoiled. “But Cisco needs you, so I guess we’ll figure it out.”

“You trust me with the person who’s most precious to you,” Dick pointed out. “I promise, I  _ swear, _ I’ll prove that you made the right choice.”

Cisco couldn’t stand it anymore; he threw his arm around Dick’s neck and let Dick pull him into a hug. He felt suddenly safer than he had in days, since the moment Dante had pulled him from the pod. He still did not let go of Dante’s hand, but when Dick opened his arms wider Dante did not step into them. For him, Cisco knew, it would take time. Dante had never really been in the habit of believing in people, and his trust, once lost, was hard to win back.

From somewhere behind them, someone started to cheer.

***

Ms. Susan Bennet loved teaching at Gotham Academy. She loved the small class sizes, allowing her to spend more time with each student. She loved the extra funding, meaning that she always had whatever materials would best help her students learn. She loved leading a class of incredibly bright, eager young children on the path to discovering the secrets of the world around them.

So when an anonymous voice on a very expensive telephone told her that if she didn’t pass along certain pieces of information she would lose her job that she loved so much, Susan didn’t particularly want to take the risk of going to the police. She wanted to stay teaching at Gotham Academy. She didn’t want to give anyone any excuse to take that away from her.

Besides, the information seemed harmless. A few grade reports here. An office referral there. Status updates on a few of her students. None of these things were strictly speaking confidential. She wasn’t even asked for health records, which were the one thing in a student’s file that was genuinely protected under the law. She just reported what she saw, and called in if any of the students she’d been told to monitor had any unusual injuries.

When Cisco and Dante Ramon returned to school after a week’s absence for Cisco and two day’s absence for Dante covered in mysterious cuts and bruises, she knew she had to call.

“I don’t know how they could have gotten them,” she said into the phone. “They’re not the kind of things kids get by playing. Dante looks like he went sledding down an asphalt driveway without the sled.”

“Very interesting,” said the anonymous voice. There was something oddly familiar about it, but Susan couldn’t place it.

“What do you want me to do now?” she asked nervously.

“Nothing at all,” said the voice. “In fact, your services are no longer required. Lose this phone, and never speak to anyone about this.”

“That’s it?” Susan demanded. “I’m free?”

The line went dead.

Susan dumped the phone in a trashcan halfway across the city from her apartment and tried not to think about what she’d just done. It was better, she told herself, to just forget the whole thing. After all, what harm could possibly come of it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it wasn't clear the version of harrison wells in this is meant to be a young justice counterpart of cw flash's earth-2 harrison wells. get rekt harry.


	7. Actions Have Consequences Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this is not at all how to child protective services works. like not at all.

Dante might have been the budding detective in the family, but Cisco knew something was wrong when he saw the police car parked outside the school.

Gotham Academy was not a school that needed a police presence. It was very prestigious; the threat of expulsion was enough to keep the students in line. The building had its own discreet security, and the very idea that the police would need to get involved would be a detriment to the school’s reputation. They liked to give the impression that they could handle their own problems, so Cisco couldn't imagine why the school would have wanted the car there.

That meant it was a police matter. That idea did not sit well with Cisco.

“Don't worry about it,” said Dante as they filed out the front entrance with the other students at the end of the day. “It’s probably there for a high school student.”

The police car was not there for a high school student though. As the children were divided into groups based on how they were getting home a cop climbed out, a pretty young woman with a long blonde braid, and she began to make her way over to where the elementary schoolers were gathered to be sorted. She spoke quietly with Miss Carver, who had both Cisco and Dante for social studies, and Miss Carver pointed them out to her. Cisco’s hand sought Dante’s as she made her way toward them, smiling warmly.

The cop reached Cisco and Dante, still smiling, and she crouched down to their level. Dante pushed Cisco behind himself, and Cisco went without protest. The cop frowned slightly, giving them a look that was almost pitying, then hitched her smile back in place.

“My name’s Officer Vicky,” she began. “I know you don't know me, but I’m a police officer, so that means you can trust me, ok?”

Cisco glanced at Dante. Dante  _ hated _ being talked down to like that, and he was glowering at Vicky with all the vitriol of his nine years. Vicky seemed a little caught off guard by that, but she cleared her throat and forged ahead.

“You guys can't go home on the bus today,” she said, in an exaggeratedly apologetic voice. “You have to come down to the police station with me.”

“Why?” Dante asked immediately, giving voice to the most immediate of Cisco’s own questions. What was going on? Why couldn't they go home? Why hadn't Dick come for them? Had something happened to him? Then why hadn't Bruce come, or Alfred? Why the police?

Vicky hesitated a moment, as though considering how to put it. “Well,” she said cautiously, “you need to talk to a nice lady called a social worker. All she’s gonna do is-”

“I know what a social worker is,” Dante cut her off. “We’re adopted, and I spent six months in the foster system.”

“Well, technically you’re still in the foster system,” Vicky corrected. “The adoption papers haven't been signed yet, thank goodness.”

“What do you mean ‘thank goodness’?” Dante snapped.

“Just that it would be harder to-” Vicky stopped abruptly as though catching herself. “You know what, maybe I should let the social worker explain.”

“No,” Dante said harshly, “ _ you’re _ going to explain. You’re going to tell us why we have to go with you, why we need to talk to a social worker and why Dick couldn't pick us up to do it. And if you don't, my brother and I are getting on the bus.”

Vicky did not seem at all prepared to be spoken to in this way by a nine year old. She gaped at Dante, eyes wide, then opened and closed her mouth several times as though considering and discarding ways she might respond. Dante waited a few moments while she sputtered, then tugged on Cisco’s hand and began leading him around when she was crouched.

“Wait!” Vicky cried, scuttling sideways hurriedly to block their way. “You have to come with me because Grayson’s been arrested!”

“Arrested?” Cisco echoed in alarm.

“For what?” Dante demanded.

Vicky hesitated a moment, then pursed her lips and nodded down at Dante's right arm. It was a scabbed over mess, scratched up from when he’d gone skidding along the rooftop when Cisco had lost control.

Dante looked from Vicky to his arm and back again. “You think Dick did this?”

“We got an anonymous tip-” Vicky began, but Dante cut her off again.

“It’s obviously a scrape,” he said incredulously, “like from wiping out on a skateboard. Kids get them all the time.”

“Did you wipe out on a skateboard?” Vicky asked gently.

“No,” Dante retorted, “I fell down some stairs.”

“And what about your brother’s broken arms,” Vicky went on. “Did he fall down the stairs too?”

“He has a condition,” Dante recited the cover story Dick had laid out to explain Cisco’s absence. “And they were hairline fractures.”

“Well we looked into his hospital records,” Vicky informed him, “and there’s been no formal diagnosis of any condition that would explain that many broken bones over that short a period of time. In fact there’s been no evidence of this ‘condition’ until he moved in with Richard Grayson. Which is when the hospital visits started.”

Dante went quiet. No doubt he knew that any possible defense would only make things worse. He would sound like he was lying, and that would make her less likely to believe them when they really needed her to. While he may not have trusted Dick completely, Dante had still decided that living with Dick was the best thing for them. He couldn’t risk sounding defensive, or contradicting the explanation that Dick was doubtlessly giving right now.

Vicky made a face that said very clearly she thought she’d won the argument. She stood up, then reached out her hands to Cisco and Dante.

“Time to go?” she asked pointedly.

Neither of them took her hands.

Cisco had never been inside a police station before. It was darker than he imagined despite the sunny day, with few windows and flickering electric lights. Not that he got to see much of it, as he and Dante were almost immediately ushered into a small, cluttered office with a large desk covered in thick files. On the other side of the desk sat a thin woman with white hair and a kind, grandmotherly sort of face. She smiled warmly when Vicky nudged them inside and then turned to go, leaving the three of them alone in the little room.

“You must be Cisco and Dante,” said the white haired woman as they sat in the two chairs on the near side of her desk. She had a soft, pleasant voice that made Cisco relax a little.

Dante, on the other hand, did not relax. “Where’s Dick?” he asked immediately. “I want to see him.”

“I’m Mrs. Westchester,” said the woman as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to be your case manager from now-”

“We already have a case manager,” Dante interrupted. “His name is Mr. Green, and he’s been working to get the paperwork in order so that our adoption can be finalized.”

Mrs. Westchester gave Dante a sympathetic smile. “Mr. Green has been taken off your case, dear.”

“Why?” Dante demanded, eyes narrowed.

“Well, he’s currently under investigation,” she replied. “We got an anonymous tip-”

“You seem to rely pretty heavy on anonymous tips around here,” Dante cut her off sharply. “Why don’t you listen to what I’m saying, right here in front of you. You’re. Making. A. Mistake.”

“What mistake would that be dear?” Mrs. Westchester asked patiently.

“Dick didn’t do this,” Dante held up his scraped up arm demonstratively, “or break any of Cisco’s bones. He’s not hurting us, so there’s no need to take us away.”

“I know it’s hard dear,” Mrs. Westchester said, smiling a sad little smile, “but this is a safe place. You don’t have to be afraid of him here.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Dante insisted. “I don’t need to be.”

Mrs. Westchester sighed. “When a home isn’t safe, sometimes it’s hard to feel safe anywhere,” she began slowly. “You can-”

“My last foster home starved me,” Dante cut her off heatedly, leaning forward in his chair. “The one before that made me stand in a corner, on my toes while holding a broom over my head for three hours before she’d let me rest. The one before that locked me in a closet all day and the one before that just plain old beat the crap out of me. I called social services on every single one of them, and no one ever cared. You’re telling me now, when I’ve finally found a good place, you’re suddenly concerned for my safety?”

“You poor child,” Mrs. Westchester said sympathetically, but no more or less sympathetically than before. In the face of what Dante had just said, it sounded somehow less genuine. “I know that it’s easy to feel like Mr. Grayson rescued you from that, but loyalty-”

“This isn’t about loyalty!” Dante snapped angrily. “This is about the truth. The truth is that Dick’s apartment is the best place for us, and I don’t want to be removed!”

Mrs. Westchester sighed and shook her head. “Maybe your new guardian can get you the help you need.”

Dante opened his mouth again, eyes flashing, when suddenly there came noises of a commotion from out in the hall. Cisco and Dante both turned toward the partially open door, and faintly, too faintly to make out the words, Cisco thought he heard Dick’s voice. Mrs. Westchester quickly stood up.

“Let me close that,” she said, bustling over to the door.

Dante was faster. He leaped out of his chair and slithered through the opening before she could reach him. Mrs. Westchester opened the door wider to follow him, calling his name, and when Cisco tried to run past her she grabbed at him too. He managed to evade her though, and slipped past her long skirt to join Dante outside.

Dick was indeed out in the hallway, arguing vehemently with two police officers. Bruce was standing beside him, looking grim, but Dick looked absolutely furious.

“You have no evidence!” he was saying to one officer, tugging to free his arm from the grip of the other. “There’s nothing in their medical records to suggest-”

“Sir, sir,” said the officer he was arguing with. “I’m going to need you to calm down. Just because you made bail doesn’t mean you get to keep the kids.”

“You threaten to take away my kids and you want me to calm down?” Dick demanded incredulously.

“Dick!” called Dante, waving.

Dick turned toward the noise, and his face broke out in a relieved smile. “Kids!” he called, leaning down and opening his arms.

Before Cisco could run to him though, a firm hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up to see Mrs. Westchester glaring at Dick.

“I don’t think so,” she said, gripping Cisco and Dante tightly.

“We got a report of suspected child abuse, we have to take it seriously,” said the officer, in a bored, disinterested sort of way, drawing Dick’s attention back to him. “They’ll be placed with a temporary guardian until the hearing.”

“I’d like to offer myself for that position,” Bruce interjected before Dick could say anything. “The boys can stay with me until we get this sorted out.”

“The social worker assigned to their case,” the officer jerked his head at Mrs. Westchester, “thinks you’re too close to the defendant. I’m sorry, but we already have a guardian lined up.”

“Who could you possibly have lined up already?” Dick asked in obvious surprise.

“That would be me,” said an oily voice from off to Cisco’s left.

Cisco and Dante both turned, to see a man step out into the hallway from another office across from the social worker’s. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black suit that looked to be very expensive. The lines and creases were perfectly pressed, and every cut looked precise, like it had been made for him. His hands were clasped behind his back as he came into the light, the fluorescent glow reflecting off his bald head.

“Luthor,” said Dick, eyes narrowed.

“Mr. Grayson,” said Lex Luthor, in a light, pleasant tone of voice. Then he turned from Dick to look at Cisco and Dante. “And the children. My, they’re taller than I imagined.”

“You stay away from them,” Dick snarled, tugging again to free himself from the officer holding him.

“That won’t be practical,” said Luthor conversationally. “I am to be their new guardian for the time being.”

Dick’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.

“I’ve always had a strong sense of civic duty,” Luthor replied evenly. “When I found out that the two darlings of Gotham City were being . . . ill-treated, I simply had to offer myself to care for them.”

He turned back to Cisco and Dante. “I know this must be a trying time for the two of you, but I hope you’ll come to trust me, as you haven’t been able to trust your previous-”

At that moment he was interrupted by the thick metal cord of Menace wrapping around his neck.

Cisco looked beside himself to see Dante gripping the cord, glaring at Luthor with fire in his eyes. He yanked, and Luthor made a choking noise.

“Dante!” Dick snapped reproachfully. “Stop that! Right now!”

Dante made a little growling noise in his throat. He flicked his wrist, and the yo-yo returned to his hand.

“It’s alright,” said Luthor as several officers drew closer. He coughed, massaging his throat. “I’m sure such a violent environment has instilled several impulses meant for self-defense. It will take such a poor, abused child some time to trust anyone.”

“You bastard,” Dante hissed. “You’re the one who reported him!”

“How could I have done that?” Luthor asked, with mock sincerity. “I was in Metropolis when I got the news. I rushed right over here on my private jet less than an hour ago.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Dante said firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

“Now now,” Mrs. Westchester said cajolingly. “He’s a very nice man, and he’s willing to forgive your little outburst.”

“I refuse!” Dante insisted. “Cisco and I aren’t going with you!”

Luthor took five measured, precise steps across the hallway and knelt down in front of Cisco and Dante.

“Boys,” he said, and there was a twisted sort of affection in his voice, like he were speaking to a pair of especially pretty show dogs. “I only want to help you. What you’ve been through can never be forgiven, but I want to be a safe place you can use to heal. I want you to move on from your past and realize your potential.”

On the pretext of maneuvering himself back into a standing position, Luthor leaned forward a little and put his mouth right next to Cisco’s ear.

“Come quietly,” he said, low enough that only Cisco could hear him, “or I’ll have your brother arrested for assault.”

Cisco gasped, staring up at Luthor in horror when he drew back and stood up. Would he really do a thing like that? What would having an assault on his record do to Dante? Would it reflect badly on Dick? Could it be used as an excuse to separate them?

Luthor turned toward the door. “Come along children,” he said, beckoning with one hand. “The paperwork has all been signed. We’re going home now.”

Cisco took a deep breath and made his decision. As Luthor began to walk briskly toward the door Cisco fell into step just behind him. After a few seconds he felt Dante beside him, but he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. He did not know what expression Dante was wearing, but if he looked to the side, he’d have to look back.

“Kids!” Dick called from somewhere behind them. “No, don’t! Kids!”

Luthor led the way down the hall, Cisco and Dante trailing after him.

“Kids, wait!”

Luthor held the door open, and Cisco and Dante went through it ahead of him. There was a limousine parked outside, with a man there to open the door for them.

“Look at me!”

The door to the police station swung closed behind them.

***

Dick couldn’t breathe. He felt like Menace’s cord was wrapped three times around his neck, cutting off his air, making him choke on his tongue. He knew he was yelling, but he couldn’t hear the sound or feel the vibrations in his throat. There was a heavy weight on his chest, refusing to let it rise and fall, but he couldn’t see what it was because his vision had tunneled. His world had narrowed to the sight of the three people currently walking out the door of the police station. That sight, that single all-consuming fact of reality was the only thing he could focus on.

The boys wouldn’t look at him. They were being taken away and they wouldn’t even look at him. They were walking out the door with Lex freaking Luthor and they  _ wouldn’t even turn around and look at him. _

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice cut through the panic Dick felt dimming all sound to a dull roaring in his ears. “Breathe.”

Dick forced himself to take a breath, the air tasting stale in his mouth, and let it out. He took another, and then another two, until he felt he could look at Bruce and actually  _ see _ him, not just the backs of Cisco and Dante’s heads as they  _ walked away with Lex Luthor. _

He thought that image might be permanently burned onto his eyelids.

Bruce took Dick’s arm and drew him away from the middle of the hallway, to a relatively quiet corner. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and fired off a quick text message before turning his attention back to Dick.

“We will get them back,” he said firmly. “Whatever Luthor’s game is, it won’t last long. The boys will be asked to testify at the hearing, and they’ll tell the truth. You had nothing to do with their injuries.”

“Will they though?” Dick asked softly.

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They walked out of here without a backward glance,” Dick pointed to where the boys had disappeared out the front door of the police station. “They only agreed to trust me again yesterday because they had no better options. What if this is the better option they’ve been waiting for?”

“You think the boys would rather be with Luthor than you?” Bruce realized. “They know better than to trust Luthor, you told them-”

“Who to look out for,” Dick finished for him, “but if they don’t trust me why trust anything I say?”

“Because they’re smart,” Bruce told him. “They know better than to think that anyone is trustworthy just because they’re not you.”

“And what if they don’t think he’s trustworthy?” Dick demanded. “What if they just . . . hate me so much they’d rather take a risk on  _ Lex Luthor _ than stay with me?”

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “We will figure this out,” he said seriously. “We’ll get the boys back, and then you can prove to them how much you care about them.”

Dick blinked rapidly, trying to cool the heat behind his eyes. He would not cry; he would not be weak when the boys needed him to be strong. He would hold it together. For them.

“I just got them back,” Dick said, fighting not to say it on a sob. “Now I’ve lost them,  _ again _ .”

“You didn’t lose them,” Bruce reminded him. “They were taken. And we’re not going to let Luthor get away with this.”

Bruce’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to look at it again.

“The earliest we can schedule the hearing for is two weeks from now,” he said grimly.

“Two weeks?!” Dick demanded. “We can’t leave them there for two weeks!”

“We can’t do anything until then,” Bruce warned. “Whatever we do, it has to be perfectly legal and transparent. We can’t give the court any reason to suspect you of any wrongdoing.”

“I’m not going to leave my kids in Luthor’s hands for two weeks,” Dick insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, and he sounded as hopeless as Dick felt. “We have to.”

***

Cisco had never seen this part of Gotham before. They were driving in the opposite direction from Wayne Manor, toward the other end of the city. The buildings flashed past until they began to thin out, and then they were going slower down streets with large houses and big lawns. Eventually these too thinned out, until they were on a private road lined with cherry trees which ended in front of an enormous manor house.

The door of the limo opened, and Cisco and Dante were beckoned out by a man who reminded Cisco faintly of Alfred. Luthor followed after them, then led the way up the stairs toward the front door. A row of people dressed like maids and butlers were waiting outside, all smiling brightly. Each one greeted Luthor as “Sir,” and bowed or curtsied deeply to him. Scattered around at even intervals were men in suits, with comms in their ears, which Cisco could only guess were security. Another two of them came up behind Cisco and Dante as they followed after Luthor, boxing them in, cutting off their retreat.

Cisco grasped Dante’s hand tightly, and Dante squeezed back.

Once they were inside the door shut with an ominous thud, and Cisco edged closer to Dante until their shoulders were touching. The front hall was enormous, decorated in tones of blue and gold, with huge portraits on the walls and a magnificent marble staircase across from the door. More security guards seemed to materialize from the shadows, until Cisco and Dante were surrounded.

“Take the boys to their rooms,” Luthor said, from outside the ring of guards.

Immediately a thick, muscular arm was wrapped around Cisco’s middle and he was hauled off his feet. He cried out as he felt his hand slip from Dante’s, struggling vainly against the man holding him. Dante, for his part, let out a feral scream and slammed the back of his head into the nose of the man who had picked him up. This created a sickening crunching noise and caused the man’s grip to loosen, until Dante could wriggle out of it to land on the floor.

Two more guards advanced on Dante, but not for nothing had he been training as Trouble for several months. Those two went down easily, and then a third, until only four guards remained standing. They all grabbed for him at once, and Dante might have evaded them, but one of the ones he had already downed seized his ankle and he crashed to the floor. Two men grabbed his arms, another gathered up his flailing legs, and the fourth grabbed him by the hair to direct his face towards Luthor.

“There’s no need for that,” said Luthor, as Dante panted and struggled to look away. “You are safe here, child.”

“Bastard!” Dante spat.

Luthor let out a little chuckle. “And I assure you that I have adequate security to subdue the both of you, if it comes to that.”

Dante glanced with difficulty at Cisco, worry in his eyes. Cisco had not tried to use his powers to free himself. He’d never tried to use his powers at all, outside of very controlled circumstances. He did not know what they would do, in this situation. He might bright the house down. He looked at Dante and shook his head.

Dante turned his attention back to Luthor. “You won’t get away with this,” he snarled. “Our family will come for us.”

“If you believe that you’re more naive than I thought,” Luthor said in amusement. Then he turned to the guard holding Dante’s hair. “To their rooms now, please.”

Dante continued to struggle as he was carried up the stairs, the guard holding Cisco trailing behind. Once they reached the top of the stairs though, there were a number of different hallways diverging from the top step. The guards holding Dante went down one, and the man with Cisco tucked under his arm went down another.

“No!” Cisco shrieked, hearing Dante protesting just as loudly. “No you can’t!”

He squirmed and kicked, but he could not dislodge himself, and after a few moments Dante’s cries began to grow fainter, until he could not hear them at all. Then the guard stopped outside one of the identical white doors leading off the hallway and opened it. Before Cisco could see inside he was thrown onto the plush carpet, and the door closed behind him with a cold click.

Immediately Cisco stood up and threw himself against the door. It did not budge, and the handles wouldn’t turn when he tried to twist them. He pushed and pulled for a few moments, but the door was shut tight, and eventually he gave up and leaned against it. The bedroom where he had been deposited was probably larger than Dick’s entire apartment. There was an enormous bed with purple sheets across from the door, and through an open door in one wall he could see a bathtub large enough to swim in. A set of double doors doubtlessly lead to a walk-in closet, and there was a desk that was bigger than Dick’s dining room table.

What was interesting, however, was what was strewn across the desk.

Schematics, both rolled up and spread out, lay spread haphazardly around. The gutted remnants of what looked like a very impressive machine, including parts that Cisco didn’t even recognize, were scattered about like so much junk. Curiously he went to the desk, and found that weighing down the corner of an unfurled blueprint was a part that he’d been wanting for his psychic disruptor. He picked it up and examined it. It was brand new.

“That is the part you need, isn’t it?” asked an oily voice from behind him.

Cisco jumped and spun around, to find Luthor closing the door quietly behind himself. He looked curiously relaxed with his jacket gone and his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up as though he were preparing to do something with his hands. Cisco tried not to think of what he might potentially be doing with his hands.

“These are yours?” Cisco asked, wondering if he’d been mistakenly put in Luthor’s own bedroom.

“They’re yours,” Luthor replied, nodding at the desk full of parts. “That is the one you needed, for your latest invention, is it not?”

“How did you know?” Cisco asked nervously.

“Your science teacher was very forthcoming for the right price,” Luthor said, smiling almost teasingly. “You talk under your breath when you work, did you know that?”

Cisco did his best to hum noncommittally. “I guess we’ll have to have her fired,” he said, turning back to the desk and returning the part to its proper place. “I can’t be taught by someone who’s passing information to supervillains.”

“What gave you that impression of me?” Luthor’s tone was wounded, as though Cisco had hurt his feelings.

“Well all the bad stuff you’ve done to Superman comes to mind,” Cisco turned to face Luthor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then there’s having us taken away from Dick, and oh yeah being dragged here and locked in, somewhere that’s away from my brother.”

“I wanted you each to see the rooms I set up for you,” Luthor said, as though that explained everything.

“You wanted me to see this stuff,” Cisco glanced over his shoulder at the contents of the desk. “Because you think it will impress me, right?”

“I know for a fact that it’s more than what you have with Mr. Grayson,” Luthor said. “More space to work, for one thing, and more materials to work with.”

“Yawn,” Cisco said, glaring.

Luthor’s mouth quirked into a smile. “There was another reason I wanted you and your brother separated, Cisco,” he began, leaving his position by the door to walk leisurely toward the bed. “I wanted to speak to you alone.”

“What for?” Cisco wondered, letting his arms slide down to his sides as he backed up against the desk, as far from Luthor as he could get.

“I don’t think you get much chance to talk about your interests,” Luthor explained, coming to sit on the bed, a few feet away from Cisco. “It seems, from what I’ve witnessed, that Dante has a tendency to dominate the conversation.”

“Dante just doesn’t want me talking to you,” Cisco snapped. “I talk about what I like to do with Dick all the time.”

“But can he understand it?” Luthor wondered, sounding as though he’d proved some important point. “Surely it must be frustrating, having to explain everything to him all the time.”

“It helps me talk through stuff,” Cisco countered defensively.

Luthor smiled. “Mightn’t it also be nice to get a little feedback though?” he asked. “Let’s talk about your newest creation. One inventor to another. I think you’ll find the experience . . . enlightening.”

“I’m not telling you  _ anything _ about my inventions,” Cisco said firmly. “You’d just use them for evil, if I told you how they work.”

“Is that what Grayson told you?” Luthor asked lightly.

Cisco opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could not say that anyone else had told him without giving away Nightwing’s secret identity. Luthor grinned, looking triumphant, and Cisco glared.

“It’s what I know is true,” he said at last.

“Or perhaps, is it what Nightwing told you?” Luthor asked, just as lightly as before.

Cisco gasped. How did Luthor know he knew Nightwing? Did he already know Nightwing’s secret identity? Did he know Batman’s? Cisco forced himself to slow down and think. Luthor was a member of the Light, who were the ones who had sent Sportsmaster after him and Dante. Of course he knew that Cisco knew Nightwing; Nightwing had rescued them.

He had been thinking too long, and his silence answered for him. “I thought you weren’t trusting him?” Luthor went on. “Your brother doesn’t seem to.”

“I do trust him,” Cisco said, feeling secure in admitting that at least. “He . . . he saved me.”

“Are you certain that’s wise?” Luthor asked. “According to my sources you boys seemed very upset with him. Perhaps he was merely telling you what you wanted to hear.”

“He wants what’s best for me,” Cisco said firmly. “He wants to help me, unlike you. You only want to use me.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Luthor said teasingly. “Everyone uses everyone. I want to use you and your talents to make the world a better place. Nightwing, well, who can say?”

“I can say,” Cisco insisted. “I know he’s one of the good guys and you’re one of the bad guys and that’s all I need to know.”

Luthor let out a wistful little sigh. “If that’s how you feel about it,” he said, getting up and walking back towards the door, “I suppose there’s nothing more to talk about.”

Cisco watched him go without replying, not wanting to give him any reason to stay.

Luthor paused with his hand on the knob. “I’ll see you at dinner then, Cisco,” he said cheerfully. Then he left, shutting the door decisively behind himself.

***

Dante managed to break the nose of one guard, the hand of another and draw blood with his teeth from a third before he was thrown into a room and the door was shut with a bang behind him. He picked himself up and threw himself against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. His phone, his lockpick and Menace had all been taken from him, but he went immediately to the adjoining bathroom and found a convenient bobby pin with which to try the lock. He managed to unlock it, but the door still wouldn’t open, meaning it hand another, secondary lock on the other side. Probably something electrical, like a fingerprint scanner. For that he would need Cisco’s expertise.

He threw the bobby pin aside in frustration and looked around the room. It was ridiculously over-decorated, with a too-large bed and expensive looking paintings on the walls, but in addition to the standard bedroom furniture in all its gold trim and mahogany wood there was also a piano in one corner. It was a full-sized grand piano, not like the baby grand he had at the apartment, and it looked brand new. Dante went over to it curiously, noticing the fine engravings accentuated with gold paint. He pressed a few keys experimentally, and found that it was perfectly tuned.

Dante shook himself. This was no time to be distracted by a piano.

He set about looking for a way out. There was no window, probably the reason he had been given this room, and the air vent was too small. The door was obviously not an option, so he moved on to the next item on his list. He ran his hands over and under every piece of furniture in the room, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there, and in this way found three cameras and a microphone. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that there might be more, but they all made a satisfying crunch beneath his foot as he ground them into the carpet. That done he set about exploring, but having run his hands over everything there was nothing much left to explore. Everything was expensive, including the closet full of stuffy-looking clothes that all looked to be just his size. Nothing could be fashioned into a weapon.

After a while he found himself drawn to the piano again, running his hands idly over the keys. He checked it for bugs a second time, found none, and sat down at the bench. He knew why it was here. Luthor wanted to show him that he could have a better life here than with Dick. That might well be true, Dante thought as his fingers found a comfortable position, the starting point for  _ La Finta Giardiniera _ which Cisco liked to listen to when studying. That did not mean he trusted Luthor any more than he trusted Dick. Less so.

Dante did not really notice he’d begun playing until he heard the sound of clapping coming from somewhere near the door. Cursing himself he turned, realizing he’d been maneuvered so that his back was to the only entrance, where Luthor was now standing with a smug look on his face.

“Mozart?” he asked innocently when Dante swung his legs around the bench so he was facing Luthor.

Dante glared. “Where’s my brother?”

“I’m surprised you can play without sheet music,” Luthor went on as though Dante hadn’t spoken. “I’d have provided you with some, but I wasn’t sure what you were working on.”

“I want to see my brother,” Dante insisted. “Take me to him, now.”

“Can you read sheet music?” Luthor wanted to know. “I know that some younger artists prefer to just learn by sound-”

“Stop playing with me!” Dante shouted. “Tell me what you’ve done with Cisco!”

“Your brother is well,” Luthor said placatingly. “He’s just in his room, looking over some blueprints I gave him.”

“I want to see him,” Dante demanded. “Now.”

“You’ll see him at dinner,” said Luthor easily.

“ _ Now _ ,” Dante repeated.

Luthor let out a little chuckle. “I can admire that directness,” he admitted. “You’re a man who knows what he wants.”

“Don’t think compliments are going to win me over,” Dante snapped. “And don’t think a fancy piano will either. I don’t need a grand piano, I  _ need _ to see my brother.”

“Are you always this focused on him?” Luthor wondered.

“Always,” Dante confirmed.

“Let’s talk about him then,” Luthor walked to the solid wood desk and pulled out the chair, then sat facing Dante. “Let’s talk about what you would do to see him safe.”

“Anything,” Dante said immediately.

“Anything?” Luthor raised an eyebrow. “Even give up this grudge and trust me?”

“Trusting you won’t keep him safe,” Dante argued. “You just want to use him.”

“And you don’t think Mr. Grayson is planning on using him?” Luthor asked.

“No,” Dante frowned. “What would Dick want to use him for?”

“And, Nightwing?” Luthor pressed. “The Justice League? Did you think their interest was purely philanthropic?”

Luthor had no way of knowing this, but he had actually just confirmed Dante’s suspicion. He had suspected that Luthor knew about Dante being Trouble and Cisco having powers, which it seemed that he did. The Light had sent Sportsmaster after Cisco and Dante, and Luthor was going to great lengths to win them over, but that could all just be because they had been adopted by the son of one of Lexcorp’s biggest competitors. The fact that Luthor knew about the Justice League’s interest said it was more than that. While the Reverse Flash wasn’t a member of the Light he still had ties to them, and it was impossible to say how much he’d told them. Enough to figure out this much, at least.

Dante chose his next words carefully. “Dick won’t let Nightwing do anything bad to Cisco,” he said, as though perfectly assured of Dick’s trustworthiness. “He cares about us.”

“You’re putting an awful lot of faith in the goodwill of a man you ran away from,” Luthor said.

Dante blinked. “What?”

“Well,” Luthor drawled, “you’ve caused an awful lot of trouble for him. By the time this hearing is over his name will have been dragged through the mud. Not to mention the time and money he’ll have to spend trying to get you back.”

“I . . .” Dante trailed off. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It wasn’t something he’d thought of before. He’d been so focused on being angry at Dick he hadn’t stopped to consider what Dick was feeling. Was Dick also angry?

“I would certainly be displeased, if I’d opened my home to an orphan only to get such treatment in return,” Luthor continued.

“That’s you,” Dante snapped. “Dick’s not like that. He, he wants to help Cisco.”

“Cisco, yes,” Luthor agreed. “But it wasn’t Cisco’s idea to run away from home, was it?”

Dante swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “What are you saying?”

“Merely that between the two of you there is only one troublemaker,” Luthor explained. “Now of course he’ll have to try to get both of you back just for appearances sake, but a few months down the line . . . well, foster homes don’t work out all the time.”

“He would never separate us,” Dante bit out. “He promised.”

“Just as you have doubtlessly made many promises to behave yourself,” Luthor countered nonchalantly.

He stood up and went to the door. “Dinner is in half an hour,” he said, as though completely unconcerned with what Dante took from their discussion.

It was only after he was already gone that Dante realized he’d made no attempt to slip out after him.

***

There was no clock in Cisco’s room and they’d taken his phone, so there was no way of telling how much time had passed before two of the guards came in to fetch him for dinner. He was allowed to walk this time, albeit with one arm held firmly by each guard. The dining room was as ostentatious and over-designed as he’d expected, with high backed chairs and a velvet tablecloth over a table large enough to seat twenty people. Luthor was seated at the head of the table with Dante on his left, but when Cisco tried to run to his brother he was dragged over to the seat on Luthor’s right.

“Good evening children,” Luthor said, smiling benevolently at the two of them. “How did you find your rooms?”

“Repulsive,” Dante said immediately.

“Repugnant,” Cisco concurred.

“Splendid,” said Luthor, as though he hadn’t heard them. “I thought you’d enjoy the little homey touches I had put in for each of you.”

Dante rolled his eyes.

Dinner, it seemed, was to be a formal affair. Three wait staff brought out three trays, and another two poured wine for Luthor and water for Cisco and Dante. Luthor sipped at the red liquid as the tray covers were removed to reveal some kind of fish with mixed vegetables. It smelled heavenly, and Cisco was reminded of the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch. He glanced up at Dante, but Dante shook his head and sat back in his chair. Cisco, trying not to listen to his growling stomach, sat back also.

For a few moments Luthor pretended not to notice he was the only one eating, before performing an exaggerated realization.

“You’re not eating!” he said in mock distress. “Is it not to your liking? Growing boys needs their food.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Dante said flatly.

“I don’t feel well,” Cisco added.

Luthor clapped his hands and two more trays were brought out, one set before Dante and one before Cisco. Dante’s tray was uncovered to reveal a delicious looking dish with no meat whatsoever, and Cisco’s contained a bland and easily digested pile of boiled roast and potatoes.

“I assure you my staff have thought of everything,” Luthor’s eyes almost twinkled as he took in Cisco and Dante’s identical looks of disgust. “We want you to feel welcome here.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cisco pushed his plate away politely.

Dante did not bother, shoving his plate so that it almost upended and letting a few pieces of broccoli spill out onto the tablecloth.

Luthor merely smiled indulgently and sipped his wine. “So how was your first afternoon?” he asked, going back to his own food. “Dante, you seemed to be enjoying your new piano.”

“I hate this house, that piano and you,” Dante said forcefully.

“I see,” Luthor said noncommittally.

As Luthor ate Cisco tried not to think about how hungry he was, even for the bland and boiled mess that was on his plate currently. He sipped his water, feeling it go down his throat and into his stomach, trying to focus on that. It didn’t help very much.

“Well,” said Luthor, putting down his fork and picking up his glass. “I propose a toast. To your first night at home.”

Cisco picked up his glass. “To going home soon,” he corrected, and took a sip.

“To you dying in a fire,” Dante took a big gulp of water and burped obnoxiously.

Luthor laughed and set down his glass. “I find it interesting that you two think that not eating will help your situation,” he said conversationally. “I would think you’d want to keep up your strength.”

“Don’t wanna get drugged,” Dante slurred. Cisco blinked. Why was Dante slurring his words?

“Then why drink the water?” Luthor wondered idly.

For a moment Cisco struggled focus on Luthor’s words, feeling suddenly as though his head were in a fog. Then he jerked upright, panic gripping him. The water!

“Goodnight boys,” said Luthor pleasantly.

Cisco opened his mouth to respond, but his tongue felt heavy. He felt heavy in general. Even his eyelids seemed to weigh more than normal. He suddenly found himself staring at his plate as his head lolled forward, and it merely rolled to the side when he tried to raise it again. Across from him he could hear Dante making agitated noises, but it seemed to be very far away.

The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness with Luthor’s malevolent chuckle.

***

The video was two minutes long. That meant that, as Dick rewound it for the 27th time, he was going on an hour of watching the same looped footage. It had been broadcast on one of the League’s secure channels, one they would certainly not be using anymore. Not after it had been used to deliver  _ this _ .

Dick rewound it again, for the 28th time. Perhaps this time he might notice something he hadn’t before, something that would give away a clue that the video’s maker hadn’t intended. It was a pretty close angle shot though, not much by way of things to analyze. Even the light source looked artificial.

The 29th replay looked exactly like the one before it, and would probably look just like the one after, but maybe if he stared at it for a solid hour it would-

“Dick,” called Jason’s voice from somewhere behind him.

“Yeah?” Dick said, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the screen projected above the main floor of the Watchtower.

Jason came up beside him and pressed a key on the keyboard, pausing the video to display a still image of Cisco and Dante. They were tucked into bed beside one another, their little eyes closed and their breathing even. Cisco was curled up against his brother, and Dante’s hand was on top of Cisco’s head.

Dick swallowed the bile in his throat as he looked at his children sleeping soundly in the hands of an enemy.

“You gotta stop watching it,” Jason insisted. “You’re not gonna learn anything new. You’re just torturing yourself.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Dick wondered morbidly. “It’s my fault-”

“It’s no one’s fault but Luthor’s,” Jason cut him off firmly.

“It’s not his fault that I underprepared them,” Dick shook his head. “I didn’t do enough to-”

“You did everything you could,” Jason told him.

“Everything I could?” Dick repeated incredulously. “They trust him!”

“We don’t know that,” Jason argued. “They’re exhausted, they-”

“They’ve let their guard down,” Dick insisted. “They’ve let their guard down and they feel safe in that house. Safer than they feel in mine!”

“That is flat out not true,” Jason said. “They agreed to trust you because-”

“Because they had no better options!” Dick could hear his voice going high and shrill but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Because they love you,” Jason corrected. “Luthor doesn’t have that going for him, okay? They’re kids, they can tell when they’re being played. Luthor’s not gonna win them over in one night.”

“How about in two weeks?” Dick asked miserably.

“We’re not gonna give Luthor that long,” said a voice from behind Dick.

He turned, to see Conner, Clark and Bruce emerging from deeper in the Watchtower. Conner, who had been the one to speak, went immediately to Dick’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are we gonna do then?” Dick wanted to know. “We can’t get near them until the hearing.”

“You can’t,” Conner shook his head. “I can.”

“No,” said Clark before Conner could get another word out.

“He’ll let me into the house,” Conner insisted, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to face Clark. “He’ll let me get close to-”

“I said no,” Clark glowered. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“I don’t give a damn about dangerous,” Conner argued. “Those are little kids in there. I have to do something.”

“Little kids that Luthor will not, under any circumstances, hurt,” Clark replied. “Two weeks isn’t enough time to grow clones, so there’s no chance of them being replaced, and he needs them to not have any new injuries or the court won’t like it. He’s not going to hurt them, but he might hurt you.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Conner said. “He wants me on his side.”

“You think he cares about you?” Clark asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Conner admitted, “but he feels an ownership of me. He’ll do whatever he thinks he needs to in order to . . . possess me again. He’ll let me into that house.”

“I said no,” Clark crossed his arms over his chest, “and that’s final.”

Dick put his hand on Conner’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, “but you don’t need to put yourself in danger. We’ll figure this out.”

Conner made a little grunting noise and pulled out of Dick’s grasp.

***

Luthor had taken the boys to a mansion on the opposite end of Gotham from Wayne Manor. It was lavish, with Grecian columns and a large fountain out front. It loomed large and imposing over Conner in the early morning light as he made his way up the front steps, leaving Sphere in Supercycle mode outside. He didn’t know how long he’d be here, but he needed someone to send out a distress signal in case the answer was “too long.”

The butler who answered the door seemed to know who he was, because Conner was ushered immediately inside to a cozy little parlor and told that Luthor would be with him shortly. Conner did not sit, as he was instructed, but opted to stand next to the window instead. He wondered if, wherever the boys were, they had a window to look out of. Somehow he doubted it.

His super hearing picked up the sound of footfalls even on the plush carpet, and he turned to face the door as Luthor appeared in the doorway. If he was surprised to see Conner he didn’t show it, instead opting to smile in a predatory kind of way.

“Son,” he said, in a mockery of parental affection.

Conner crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey dad,” he said. “Long time no see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you hate me and you know it clap your hands (and leave a comment, and thank hedgi for all the hard work she put into developing this au with me)!


	8. Actions Have Consequences Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT DEAD! just busy with end of semester stuff (and a little bit of being lazy) but i am here and i have the dramatic conclusion to that horrible cliffhanger i left last time. as always special thanks to hedgi for helping me plan this monstrosity out, a lot of the really clever stuff in this chapter was her idea.

For the first time Conner considered that it might not have been the best idea to come in the early morning. It had seemed important at the time, to come as soon as his cover story would allow, but as Luthor’s household staff bustled around setting out coffee and croissants and butter and jelly he found it hard to resist putting his fist through the table. He just wanted to be alone with Luthor, so he could hash out what he had to do to get near the boys. Instead he had to sit through the rigamarole of being served breakfast.

“Cream and sugar?” Luthor asked, seeming delighted at the chance to play host.

Conner glanced at the coffee cup that had been set in front of him. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Would you prefer tea?” Luthor asked.

Conner contemplated for a moment waiting another five minutes for tea to be brought out, then took a large gulp of coffee. It was hot and bitter, but it didn’t burn him, though he knew it would have burnt a human. Conner was not human, so he was allowed to do things like gulp scalding drinks to make a point.

Luthor didn’t look the slightest bit perturbed. “So,” he said, as the staff began to clear out, “what brings the prodigal son home at last?”

“I heard I have brothers now,” Conner said, after waiting until they were completely alone, the door shut behind the last woman in a maid outfit. “I thought I’d come and see them.”   
“You’ve never concerned yourself much with  _ our _ family before,” Luthor said, putting the emphasis on what was between them. It was a connection Conner had long ago thought he’d broken, but he needed it now.

“Yeah, well,” Conner tried to think of a way to spin this, “you and I are both very independent people.”

“That we are,” Luthor agreed, and Conner immediately felt sick.

He cast around for something else Luthor might approve of. “I broke up with that girl you didn’t like.”

“Ah yes, her,” Luthor sipped his coffee. “I always thought she was a bad  _ influence _ on you.”

Conner clenched his teeth and kept the shouted retort about M’gann being better for him than anything Luthor had ever done behind his lips. He could not afford to give Luthor any excuse to throw him out. He’d made it this far. He had to play along.

At last he settled on, “I knew you didn’t approve,” and left it at that.

Luthor grinned over the rim of his coffee cup. “And what about your other . . .  _ associations? _ ”

“I figured they might be useful,” Conner shrugged. “Might as well not burn those bridges yet.”

“I would hate for you to have any negative influences in your life when you meet the boys,” Luthor said innocently. “They’ve been through enough, and I don’t want them to be touched by such things.”

Conner might not have been a master manipulator like Luthor, but he could understand Luthor’s meaning. No talking about the team or the League; that was a rule he’d have to follow if he wanted to be let near the boys.

He also knew an opening when he saw one, and even if he had the feeling Luthor was still steering the conversation he changed the subject.

“Tell me about the boys,” he asked stiffly. “What are they like?”

“Gifted,” Luthor said immediately. “They’re both very talented, each in their own way. Dante is a piano prodigy, extremely advanced for his age, and Cisco’s quite the budding inventor. I look forward to helping to shape their futures.”

Conner didn’t like the sound of that at all, but he decided not to push his luck. “How are they settling in?”

“The usual adjustment issues you see with foster children,” Luthor waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing a little time won’t iron out.”

“Maybe I could help,” Conner offered, trying to sound offhanded. “It might help them to see-”

“A familiar face?” Luthor finished for him. His smile was gone.

Conner decided it was time to drop the facade. “I just want to know they’re alright.”

“The children are safe in my care,” Luthor insisted.

“Bull,” Conner snapped. “You plan to use Cisco as a weapon.”

“And what did you think the Justice League was going to do with him?” Luthor raised an eyebrow. “Leave him alone? Let him have a normal life?”

“If that’s what he chooses,” Conner said, glaring. “They would never force him to work for them. He can be normal if he wants to.”

"My dear naive child,” Luthor chuckled, “normal was never an option for him. The League would have eventually used Cisco as a weapon, just as the Light will. It is his purpose, what he was created for."

“Sooner or later, we all outgrow what we were created for,” Conner told him.

“Maybe so,” Luthor said flippantly, his lighthearted tone suddenly returning, “but the children will not be allowed to stagnate while in my care. With me, they will have every advantage in life.”

Conner ground his teeth in annoyance. “Can I see them or not?” he demanded.

“You can see them at lunch,” Luthor said coolly. “Until then I’m afraid they’re quite busy, taking this opportunity to hone their talents before I take them back to Metropolis and enroll them in school again.”

Conner slammed down on the retort about Luthor’s scheme never getting that far and forced his face into a painful smile. “I guess I’ll come back at lunch then.”

“There’s no need for you to leave, son,” Luthor stood up, abandoning his coffee cup to the side table where the untouched dishes of pastries sat. “I could show you the gardens. We can talk some more.”

The very thought of spending another moment in Luthor’s presence made Conner want to be sick. He stood up.

“Lead the way, Dad.”

***

Lunch couldn’t possibly have come soon enough, but eventually Conner found himself being seated at an enormous mahogany dining table in a dining room that might have passed for a banquet hall. Luthor was seated at the head of the table and Conner was directed to the place at his right hand, but the two additional places that were set were on opposite sides of the table, one to Luthor’s left and one to Conner’s right.

“The boys will want to sit next to each other,” Conner said without thinking.

“The boys need to learn that they don’t always get what they want,” Luthor replied placidly.

Conner clenched his fist and tried not to break the table. “They’re just kids.”

“And I’m their father,” Luthor countered.

Before Conner could break and snap that Dick was their father and Luthor would never change that, the door to the dining room opened. In walked three guards, one of them steering Cisco by the shoulder and the other two keeping a firm grip on Dante’s arms. Dante was glaring murderously around as though merely waiting for the chance to kill something, and Cisco looked like he’d been crying recently.

They both perked up when they saw Conner though. Cisco made a little noise of delight, trying to run to him, but the guard jerked him roughly back and he stopped. Dante’s eyes were wide as they looked at Conner, shock obvious on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Dante asked in surprise.

A horrible thought struck Conner. What if the boys thought he was there working with Luthor? What if they thought he was here to reveal that he was a traitor, that  _ he _ had passed the information to their captor. He cast around for a way to communicate that he was here on Dick’s behalf without openly saying it.

“It’s good to meet you both,” he said pointedly, catching Dante’s eye and then glancing at Luthor. “I came as soon as I heard that Dad was adopting two more kids.”

Dick had insisted that they all be as open as possible with the kids. They knew already that Luthor had contributed his own DNA to Conner’s genetic makeup, and that Luthor had tried to sell himself as Conner’s father. They had speculated that Luthor knew that Cisco was a metahuman and Dante was Trouble, but they had no way of knowing for sure that Luthor knew that the boys were acquainted with Conner. As such it was smartest to pretend like they didn’t know each other, and establishing that they were meant to keep a secret from Luthor between them would show them that he was on their side.

Dante nodded his understanding, and Conner relaxed a little.

“Yes children,” Luthor said delightedly, “meet your older brother, Conner. Conner, this is Dante and Cisco.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dante said carefully, looking at Cisco.

Cisco looked between Dante and Conner in confusion for a moment before repeating the sentiment.

The guards took this as their cue to drag the boys to the table. Dante was sat on Luthor’s left and Cisco on Conner’s other side. Conner was grateful he was between Luthor and Cisco. It made him feel like he could shield the little boy with his body, make him feel just a little safer than before.

“Isn’t this nice,” said Luthor pleasantly as the food was brought out. “All of us together, as a family.”

“Nice,” Conner repeated flatly.

“Nicer than getting beaten with a crowbar,” Dante said sardonically.

Conner glanced at Cisco, to see the corner of his mouth twitch upward slightly.

Lunch was some kind of chicken dish, although Dante curiously had something different from the rest of them. Both the boys immediately pushed their plates away. Conner looked between them worriedly, but neither of them even drank from their water glasses. He wondered how long it had been since they’d last eaten, and how long two growing boys would last without food.

Conner picked up his knife and fork and cut himself a piece of chicken. He looked at Dante, who was frowning and shaking his head slightly, and meaningfully put the bite in his mouth. Dante’s frown deepened, but Conner glanced at the boy’s plate and nodded. Reluctantly Dante pulled the plate closer and speared a piece of asparagus on his fork. He looked at it dubiously, then bit into it. Conner glanced to the side to see Cisco also beginning to eat.

“I’m so glad you children are feeling hungrier than this morning,” Luthor simpered.

“Growing boys need food and water,” Conner agreed through the bad taste in his mouth, “they won’t last long without it.”

Dante locked eyes with Conner and nodded his understanding. They couldn’t afford to starve to death while waiting for rescue. He took a sip of his water, and Cisco followed suit.

“Dad tells me you play piano,” Conner said to Dante, trying to keep his tone light and conversational. “Do you know any-” who was that composer, the one who liked to use bird noises, “-Handel?”

Dante blinked rapidly, shoulders beginning to droop slightly. Inwardly Conner cursed as he realized that the food must have been drugged, like Dante thought. He hated being complicit in it, but the boys needed to eat. He tried to catch Dante’s eye, hoping that he would get Conner’s meaning, hoping that he would make the connection to birds and realize what Conner was trying to say.

Suddenly Dante’s eyes opened a little wider, and his mouth formed an O of realization. He looked at Conner, a fragile kind of hope in his eyes, and Conner nodded. Nightwing had sent him. He was looking for a way to fix this. He was coming for them.

Conner glance to the side, to see Cisco also wilting. “Did you have to . . .” he began to ask Luthor, but as he spoke he felt his voice becoming softer until it trailed off. Suddenly he could not remember the next word he’d been meaning to say. He did not remember what he’d been meaning to ask at all.

“You looked tired son,” said Luthor, and Conner struggled to turn his head to look at him. It seemed very heavy all of a sudden. “Why don’t you go to your room?”

A hand fell heavily on Conner’s shoulder. Conner tried to shrug it off, but found that he couldn’t. He blinked slow and long, trying to connect one thought with another. The boys were becoming sluggish because they were being drugged. He was becoming sluggish. But he couldn’t be drugged, because he was half Kyrptonian. Right?

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Dante’s head falling limply to the side.

***

The first thing Conner became aware of as he awoke was a pounding in his head. He groaned, raising a hand to massage his temples. He’d only had a few headaches in his life, and it took a lot to give him one. He must have gotten the tar beaten out of him last night. He opened his eyes, turning to look for his alarm clock.

There was no alarm clock.

He blinked, staring at the bedside table. His bedside table was made of plain dark wood, but this one was painted white with gold accents. It did not support his alarm clock and water bottle, but an elegant gold lamp with little prisms of glass or maybe crystal dangling from the shade. He did not remember getting a new bedside table, or a new lamp.

Trying to ignore the pounding in his head, Conner sat up and looked around. He was not in his room at home, but rather in a large bedroom with cream colored walls and gold detailing on every surface, decoration and piece of furniture. Slowly the memories of the previous day came back to him: he’d gone to Luthor’s mansion to see if he could get to the boys, he’d had lunch with them and convinced them to eat, he’d passed along a message just before . . .

Conner threw back the covers and launched himself out of bed. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn when he’d arrived, but his feet were bare against the plush carpet. He strode purposefully over to the double doors across from the bed and made to fling them open.

He was then rather confused to be staring at a still closed door.

Conner tugged at the handle again, but the door merely rattled and remained shut. He gripped it and wrenched his hand back, intending to pull the door off its hinges, but nothing happened. He drew back a hand and punched the door with all his strength, but this resulted in nothing more than a shooting pain in his hand.

Cradling his hand to his chest, Conner looked once again around the room. He couldn’t see it, but there had to be kryptonite in here somewhere. He wouldn’t put it past Luthor to have embedded it in the walls. He’d been waiting a long time to reclaim the investment that Conner represented. He probably had rooms to contain him all over the country.

“Luthor!” Conner yelled, turning back to the door and banging on it with his good hand. “Luthor you open this door right now!”

There was no response from the other side of the door. Without a clock or even a window in the room there was no way to tell what time it was or how long he’d been asleep. It could be the middle of the night for all he knew. It could be the next day.

“Hello?” called a soft, scared sounding voice.

“Cisco?” Conner asked, pressing his ear to the door. “Cisco, are you-”

“Is anyone there?” Cisco’s voice interrupted before he could finish.

“Cisco I’m here,” Conner rattled the handle again. “Can you hear me?”

“Where’s Dante?” Cisco’s voice asked, trembling and pitiful.

“I don’t know,” Conner said, “but I’m coming, just hold on.”

“Cisco!” called a second voice, and Conner was taken aback to realize that it was Dante’s. “Cisco where are you!?”

“Dante?” Conner called out to him, still struggling with the door. “Cisco’s here, Cisco’s-”

“Give him back!” Dante shrieked. “Give him back give him back!”

Conner paused, thinking. If he could hear the boys, then they most certainly could hear each other. They would all have to be across the hall from each other, which didn’t seem likely for Luthor. The only way he would be able to hear both of them without them hearing each other would be . . .

He ran his hand over the top of the doorframe and found a small speaker.  _ “I’m scared,” _ it said in Cisco’s voice, before Conner crushed it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Luthor!” Conner resumed pounding on the door. “You leave those kids alone! Let them see each other, you hear me? Let them see each other!”

There was no answer.

***

_ “I’m scared,” _ said the voice-over in the video, for what felt like the hundredth time since midnight.

Dick rewound it again. The video was five minutes this time, and the audio did not match the visual. The screen showed a feed from what looked like a hidden camera in a bedroom, where Dante had woken up and immediately run to the door. He was banging on it, throwing himself against it and shouting, but whatever he was saying was inaudible. Instead the sound attached to the video was Cisco’s voice, soft and scared, crying out for Dante.

_ “Dante!” _ Cisco’s voice sobbed, and Dick felt the yawning pit in his stomach grow just a little wider.

“It had a title this time,” said Bruce from somewhere behind him.

“Actions Have Consequences,” Dick recited, without taking his eyes from the screen.

“Any idea what it means?” Bruce asked.

“No clue,” Dick admitted.

“Any clues hidden in that video?” Bruce wondered.

“I’ll let you know when I find one,” Dick told him.

Bruce reached over Dick’s shoulder and tapped a key on the keyboard, freezing the image and cutting off Cisco’s frightened voice.

“Stop watching it,” Bruce advised. “Luthor will have been careful. If I couldn’t pick anything up, you won’t by watching it for another hour.”

“This might be the last image of my kids I get,” Dick said, struggling to keep his voice even.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Bruce admonished. “We’ll get them back.”

“How?” Dick wanted to know. “We don’t know what Luthor’s game is, what he’s planning, we don’t even know what his stupid taunt means-”

“I might,” interrupted M’gann as she glided into the room. Clark was following after her, and they both looked grim.

“What have you found?” Bruce demanded urgently.

“I decided to visit Conner this morning,” M’gann said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “He wasn’t at home. I tried calling and his phone rang once, then went to voicemail.”

Dick’s heart clenched painfully once again. They had tried calling the boys phones the night they were taken, when he deemed it likely that they were alone. They’d both rung once, then went to voicemail. Someone had seen the calls, and declined them.

“I can’t find him either,” Clark shook his head. “We think-”

“He went after the boys,” Bruce finished for him.

“And now Luthor has him,” said M’gann, looking worried.

“M’gann,” Bruce said immediately, “go to the manor and try to make psychic contact with Conner. Keep your distance, stay invisible, and under no circumstances try and get inside.”

“But what if Conner or the boys-” M’gann started.

“Under no circumstances,” Bruce repeated firmly. “He already has three hostages, we do not need him getting another. Besides, if this taunt is his reaction to sending Conner in there, sending someone else might get an even bigger response.”

M’gann nodded her understanding, then turned to go.

“M’gann,” Dick called, and she turned back. “Be safe, ok? This means more to me than to anyone but . . .”

“I won’t give him any reason to hurt the boys,” M’gann said stoutly.

“Don’t give him any reason to hurt you either,” Dick insisted. “I can’t . . . I can’t lose anyone else.”

M’gann made a soft noise in her throat and threw her arms around Dick’s neck. “We’ll get them back,” she promised. “You won’t have to lose anyone.”

She pulled back, and Dick nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. He wished he could be as confident as her, but the weight that had settled on his chest did not show any signs of lessening. He knew that his own feelings of hopelessness were nothing to what the boys had to be feeling, but he did not know how he could go another minute like this. Every second without them, not knowing what they were going through, having only cryptic clues and taunts to go on, was torture.

As M’gann headed for the zeta tube, Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Breathe,” he reminded Dick softly.

“Right,” said Dick, wondering if breathing had ever been harder. “Breathe.”

***

If you had asked M’gann as she was flying at top speed toward Luthor’s Gotham City manor house who she was more worried for, Conner or the boys, she honestly couldn’t have told you.

Conner was older and stronger, and the boys were just kids. Luthor had no reason to keep Conner in good condition, or even alive. Conner had faced Luthor before and the boys hadn’t. Conner was more likely to run his mouth and get in trouble. Luthor could take the boys’ DNA and make clones of them. Luthor already had Conner’s DNA, and could have a clone lying in wait already.

M’gann shook herself. She had no time for worrying. The only thing that would solve this was action, and they already had a plan. She could do this, for Conner and the boys. She would help to fix this, and then none of them would be in danger. She wouldn’ have to worry about any of them.

Once she reached the manor, M’gann hung back as far as she could while still being able to cast the reach of her mind over the entire house. It was big, but she was strong. She could feel many people inside, servants and guards, but she poked around in each mind she felt looking for a familiar psychic touch.

_ “Conner?” _ she called with her mind.  _ “Conner are you there?” _

_ “I’m here,” _ came the answering call, and M’gann nearly dropped out of the sky as she sagged with relief.

_ “Where are the boys?” _ she asked, still searching from mind to mind. _ “I can’t find them.” _

_ “They’re probably asleep,” _ Conner said.  _ “Luthor’s been drugging them. He drugged me too, and I’m pretty sure this room he’s got me in has kryptonite in the walls.” _

_ “He’s locked you in?” _ M’gann asked in alarm.

_ “I’ve been calling since I woke up, but no one’s come to the door,” _ Conner said. _ “What time is it?” _

_ “Seven in the morning,” _ M’gann told him.  _ “Why are you awake and not the boys?” _

_ “Luthor’s been drugging the food, and I haven’t eaten anything else since lunch yesterday,” _ Conner said,  _ “but I told the boys to keep eating. I didn’t want them getting malnourished before we could rescue them.” _

_ “Good thinking,” _ M’gann told him.  _ “But going in there alone, without telling anyone? Bad thinking, very very bad.” _

_ “Lecture later,” _ Conner said.  _ “Right now I need you to report me missing.” _

_ “What?” _ M’gann asked.

_ “Report me missing,” _ Conner repeated. _ “He’s locked me in, I’m a prisoner here. If the cops show up and find me, it’s false imprisonment.” _

_ “That’s genius!” _ M’gann clapped her hands.  _ “I mean, it’s a really stupid plan if that’s what you were trying to do all along, but it’s kinda genius too.” _

_ “We just have to pray Luthor doesn’t do anything until you can convince the cops to come,” _ Conner replied.  _ “Now get going.” _

_ “I will,” _ M’gann replied, already gaining height as she prepared to fly back to the zeta tube.  _ “And Conner?” _

_ “Yeah?” _ Conner asked.

_ “Be safe, ok?” _ she reminded him.

_ “I’ll do what I can to keep us all safe,” _ Conner assured her.  _ “Now go.” _

_ “On it,” _ said M’gann, and with that she turned and flew at top speed back toward the center of Gotham.

***

Dick watched with dull eyes as the two uniformed officers searched his apartment. What exactly they were looking for was anyone’s guess, but apparently this was part of the “investigation” being conducted. The cops had glared at Dick as they came in, and were now taking every excuse to destroy his living space, from ripping the cushions open to unscrewing the light fixtures and leaving them lying around to get broken. There was some part of Dick with enough sensation to feel violated, but most of him was too numb to care.

“Well that’s it,” said one of the cops sourly, sounding deeply disappointed they hadn’t found some kind of child-sized torture device. Dick could only imagine what he would have made of any evidence of Nightwing or Trouble, but all traces of them had been carefully removed by Jason and Tim while Dick and Bruce were still making a scene at the police station.

“Have a nice day,  _ Sir, _ ” sneered the other as the two of them filed out. He took the opportunity to kick a plastic bowl that had been thrown carelessly out of the cabinet, making it slide noisily across the kitchen floor.

When the door had slammed shut behind them Dick looked around the ruined apartment. It was a complete disaster; he’d have to spend the next few hours cleaning up. He stepped over the fluff that had once been contained inside the couch cushions and went to go lock the door, but as he came through the front hallway he heard glass crack under his shoe. He looked down, to see that a few of the pictures adorning the walls had been torn down and smashed on the floor. He lifted his foot, and Cisco and Dante’s smiling faces looked up at him.

Immediately Dick went breathless with rage. How dare they tear down these pictures? There was no reason to throw them to the floor to be stepped on except disdain for the memories that they represented. How could they defile this place that was supposed to be a  _ home _ for these children, that was supposed to be somewhere they felt like they were loved and valued?

He bent down and picked up the cracked frame, staring at the picture behind the ruined glass. The boys looked so happy, so contented and carefree and  _ safe  _ that he almost wanted to cry. He had not kept the boys safe, like he’d promised to do when he took them in. He had failed them.

This realization took all the anger out of him, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted. Leaving the mess behind and setting the picture on the kitchen counter he went to his bedroom, kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed above the covers. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, wanting to cry, not allowing himself to, letting the swirl of worry and violation and guilt and  _ sorrow _ fill his stomach and his chest and his throat.

It had almost reached his eyes, threatening to force out the tears waiting there, when suddenly he felt the bed dip behind him. He turned immediately, wondering how on Earth he’d gotten so sloppy as to allow someone  _ into his room _ without noticing them, but when he saw that it was Jason who was sitting on his bed that explained it. He exhaled, letting the tension leave him, and once Jason was satisfied that Dick wasn’t going to attack him he settled down onto the bed, laying with his front pressed to Dick’s back. Before Dick could turn around he felt the bed dip again, this time in front of him, and when he turned his head it was Tim, stretching out with his back to Dick’s front.

The two of them wiggled until they were pressed tight against him, and Jason threw one long arm around Dick and Tim. Dick let one hand snake over Tim’s middle, coming to rest beneath Jason’s larger one. Dick could remember when Jason was smaller than him, but he’d gotten so big now.

Dick inhaled sharply as the first tears fell, leaving little trails of cold wetness down his face. He buried his nose in Tim’s hair and sniffled, letting the soft strands soak up the evidence of his weakness. Jason’s fingers tightened until they gripped Dick’s hand, and Dick let out a shaky breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.

“It’s ok Dick,” said Jason softly. “You can-”

“What  _ are _ the three of you doing?” said a familiar voice from the foot of the bed.

Dick nearly snorted with laughter as he looked up to see Damian standing there, glaring at the cuddle puddle taking place with nothing short of disdain.

“What does it look like?” Tim demanded. “We’re snuggling.”

“You look like sardines in a tin,” Damian noted contemptuously.

“Not that I’d expect you to understand Freak,” Jason said, “but we’re comforting Dick.”

Damian paused at that. His face took on a conflicted expression that was so adorable Dick had to fight down a grin. His nose wrinkled, his eyebrows creased and his mouth twisted until it looked like he’d tasted something sour. He looked as though he were struggling with himself, like he was trying to choose between two equally unappealing options.

At last he seemed to come to a decision. “Move, Drake,” he said, crawling onto the foot of the bed. “If anyone’s going to comfort Grayson it should be me.”

“No way,” Tim protested, kicking at him slightly, more a nudge with his foot than anything. “If you wanna cuddle drape yourself over the top.”

“I am not a blanket,” Damian said petulantly, still trying to wiggle his way between Tim and Dick.

“There’s not enough room in this bed for all of us to lay side by side,” Jason informed him.

“Then Drake has to leave,” Damian concluded.

“Fat chance you little brat!” Tim snarled. “I was here first!”

It was at that point that Dick could no longer contain his laugh. All three of them stared at him as a snort became a giggle and then became helpless laughter that shook his whole body and made his sides hurt. None of them said anything for a few moments while Dick’s laughter died down, until he was trembling with little exhales of mirth through his nose.

“Well,” said Jason cheerfully. “I’d say Operation Make Wonderboy Feel Better is a success.”

“Yeah,” said Dick, breathing deeply as he tried to stifle his laughter. “Yeah, it was.”

“Good,” said Damian imperiously, “then you can stop feeling sorry for yourself and start coming up with a way we can defeat Luthor. I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing.”

“M’gann’s going to report Conner missing,” Dick told them, “but that’s still no guarantee that the cops will find him, or that Luthor won’t let him go before they get there.”

“We need considerably more substance to this plan,” Damian said. “It’s too uncertain.”

“But how can we  _ make _ Luthor keep Conner prisoner until the cops show up?” Jason wanted to know.

“I think I might have an idea,” Tim said suddenly, making them all turn to him. “Doesn’t Luthor have a sister?”

***

Conner paced around and around his kryptonite bedroom, feeling like an animal in a zoo. He’d checked the room thoroughly for cameras, but there had to be some that he’d missed, and he didn’t have the strength the rip the place apart to find them. Knowing that Luthor could almost certainly see him, while Conner himself was in the dark as to Luthor’s movements, was torturous. Not as torturous as, say, not knowing the condition of one’s children, but torturous nonetheless.

It felt like hours since M’gann had been there, but with no clock he had know way of knowing how much time had actually gone by. He did not know if she’d reported him missing yet, or was still in the process of doing so. He had no idea if or when the cops would show up, or if Luthor had a plan for getting rid of them already. Part of him hoped that M’gann would use her psychic powers to push the cops into coming, and part of him was disgusted for even thinking of such a thing. It was  _ wrong _ to mess with people’s heads like that. Still, with Cisco and Dante’s  _ lives _ on the line, it didn’t seem so black and white.

There came a knock at the door, and Conner whirled to face it. He expected it to come open at any moment, but the seconds dragged on and no one entered. The knock came again, and Conner reflexively answered before he could stop himself.

“Yes?” he called, then nearly rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. This was not his room at home, this was his cell in a prison.

“May I enter?” came Luthor’s voice through the door.

Conner crossed his arms over his chest. “If you must.”

The door opened, and Luthor entered and closed it behind himself. Conner considered trying to dart out, but he was still hoping that the police would show up any moment and find him a prisoner here.

“How would you like a chance to earn your way out of this room?” Luthor asked. His tone had a kind of forced lightness to it, as if he were trying very hard to keep his composure but finding it difficult.

Intrigued, Conner raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

“Playing nice,” Luthor said. “If you can behave yourself through one dinner, then I’ll let you have some time alone with the boys before you all go to bed.”

Conner fought to keep his expression neutral. Time alone with the boys, time to comfort them and hold them, time to  _ explain _ as best he could while being watched. He couldn’t pass this up, but it seemed too easy.

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “I played nice through the last meal and ended up here. What changed?”

There was a moment, just a moment, when he thought he saw Luthor’s jaw clench.

“My sister, Lena, is coming over,” he said tightly. “I had not intended for her to find out until the adoption was formalized. She was overseas until a few hours ago, when she landed in Metropolis to pick up a few things before coming here. She  _ somehow _ found out about both the boys and you, and is coming here to meet all of you.”

“Let me guess, she doesn’t know you’re a supervillain,” Conner said reflexively.

“I like to keep her out of my more extralegal activities,” Luthor said, eyes hard. “And if you value the lives of our young friends, you will too.”

Conner’s stomach clenched painfully in fear. Value their lives? What would Luthor _ do _ to them if he didn’t comply?

“You will come downstairs and greet Lena as though nothing is wrong,” Luthor instructed. “You will answer her questions as briefly and as noncommittally as you can. You will under no circumstances let on that you are anything less than thrilled to be here, and you will not tell her anything to make her suspicious.”

“And if I don’t?” Conner asked, more out of petulance than any real intention to refuse.

“Then once Lena is gone, those boys will be made to understand the extent of my vexation with you,” Luthor’s voice went hard and cold, and Conner shivered.

Whatever Luthor was planning for if Conner refused, it was not an option.

Thus Conner found himself dressed for dinner, downstairs in the front hall standing next to Luthor as Lena approached the manor house. The boys had been allowed to stand on his other side, with Conner shielding them from Luthor. It was meager protection, but it was something, and it made the boys less fidgety as they stood in their little tailored outfits.

Lena Luthor was a tall, slim woman with long dark hair that fell straight down her back. She did not look like she’d just gotten off a long flight, in fact she was impeccably dressed and made-up as though she’d been preparing for dinner all day. She took the stone stairs to the front door remarkably quickly for someone in heels, and when she reached Luthor she immediately threw her arms around him.

“Lex!” she said excitedly, pulling back and kissing his cheek. “How on Earth could you not tell me?”

“It’s complicated Lena,” Luthor replied, holding her at arm’s length. “How was your trip?”

“Boring,” she waved the topic away with a flutter of her perfectly manicured hand. “Enough about me, I came here to meet my nephews.”

If Luthor felt nervous or uncomfortable allowing Lena to meet his three prisoners, he didn’t show it. “Lena,” he said, pulling her a little further inside until she was standing face to face with Conner. “This is my son, Conner, and my two new wards, Dante and Cisco.”

Lena looked between the three boys as though unsure who she wanted to talk to first. Conner extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Luthor,” he said, trying not to sound as stiff and awkward as he felt.

Lena, to his great surprise, threw herself into his arms.

“No no,” she said, and she sounded almost tearful as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her, “it’s Aunt Lena. We’ve been strangers long enough.”

“Aunt Lena,” Conner parroted numbly.

Luthor decided to rescue him and took Lena by the arm to draw her away. She tucked her hair behind her ears and turned her attention to Cisco and Dante.

“And you!” she said excitedly, bending down. “Aren’t you two just so cute!”

The boys stared up at her. Both of them seemed to be fighting the expressions their faces wanted to make. Cisco was clearly trying to swallow panic, and Dante had forced his mouth into a smile that did not reach his glaring eyes. Lena looked between the two of them in delight, apparently oblivious.

“Say thank you to Auntie Lena boys,” Luthor instructed.

“Thank you,” they chorused, with obvious effort.

“Shall we go inside?” Luthor gestured further into the house. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

This time Lena was seated to Luthor’s right and Conner on his left. Cisco sat on Lena’s other side, perhaps because Luthor thought him least likely to make her suspicious. Dante was still not permitted to sit next to Cisco, and was seated instead next to Conner. He slouched in his chair, glaring at Luthor, but Conner elbowed him slightly. Dante glanced up at him questioningly, and Conner pointedly straightened his back. Dante did the same.

“So,” said Lena, drawing Conner’s attention back onto her, “Conner. What brings you home at last?”

Conner thought for a moment, wondering what Luthor wanted him to say. Luthor’s expression was not forthcoming with answers, so Conner decided on the truth.

“I heard I had brothers,” he explained. “Wanted to meet them.”

“That’s all?” Lena looked sad. “We’d have loved to hear from you sooner. Where have you been?”

“Rhode Island,” Conner replied easily, the first place that popped into his head.

“Is that where you grew up?” Lena probed.

“It is,” Conner told her. As per his instructions, he did not volunteer any information he was not asked for.

Lena, however, was determined to keep the conversation going. “Is your mother still there?” she asked. “I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want you to be nearer to your father.”

Luthor apparently felt it prudent to chime in at that point. “Miss Kent is no longer with us, sadly,” he said. If he was trying to look sad, he was failing

Lena’s eyes went wide. “Kent?” she repeated, looking back and forth between Conner and Luthor. “As in that reporter that has it out for you?”

“His cousin,” Conner confirmed.

Luna put a hand to her breast. “The stories you must have heard about us,” she said, failing to stifle a small laugh. “You must think we’re some kind of supervillains.”

If Conner’s face had not been so naturally stoic, he wasn’t entirely sure what expression he’d be making. As it was he kept his expression neutral, forcing himself to go still.

“Trust me,” he said, keeping his tone light, “I know the truth about our family.”

Lena gave him a dazzling smile, and Conner forced the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards in return.

Dinner was brought out -- roast duck for all of them except Dante, who had some kind of soy dish -- and they surrendered a few moments to the clattering of plates. Lena tucked into her supper immediately, and Conner was gratified to see the boys doing the same. At least they could be assured that  _ this _ food was not drugged, or at least not so strongly as their last few meals. Lena began talking to Luthor about the food, and her trip, and some business affairs, and Conner began to think he’d done his part and Luthor was going to monopolize his sister’s attention for the rest of the evening.

After a few minutes of this though, Lena turned in her chair to look at Cisco.

“How are you settling in?” she asked, obviously trying to sound warm and reassuring.

Cisco kept his eyes fixed on his plate. “Good,” he said, and went quiet again.

“I hear you’re very smart,” she said coaxingly. “Are you looking forward to going back to school?”

“Yes,” Cisco answered, again without looking up at her.

Lena looked at Luthor as though for help, and Luthor smiled as though in amusement.

“Cisco is quite the little inventor,” Luthor told her pointedly. “We’ve already had one consultation about his newest invention.”

“Oooh, what is it?” she turned back to Cisco excitedly.

Cisco glanced at her nervously out of the corner of his eye, then looked back at his plate and said nothing.

“It’s a secret,” Luthor said in a stage whisper, “between Cisco and I. You can’t know until it’s finished.”

“I see,” Lena nodded meaningfully. “I’m glad two are already working together on-”

“They’re not working together,” Dante piped up sharply, and when Conner looked down at him his eyes were hard and glaring again.

“Dante,” said Luthor, with only the slightest edge of warning in his voice.

“My brother would never work with you,” Dante spat, completely ignoring him, “he’s way to smart to-”   
“Dante,” Conner interrupted, causing the little boy to look up at him, eyes flashing. “I know you think Cisco is smart, but he’s not so clever that he doesn’t need help. Right Cisco?”

“Right,” Cisco said hurriedly, staring at Dante with wide, terrified eyes.

Dante looked between Cisco, Conner and Luthor, and sank back sulkily in his chair.

Lena seemed to decide that Dante was suffering from a lack of attention. “So,” she said brightly, “you play piano, right?”

“It’s a hobby,” said Dante sardonically.

“He can play Mozart without sheet music,” Luthor informed her. Dante shot him a glare, but Luthor merely smiled placidly back.

“How precocious!” Lena said excitedly. “Can you play “Flight of the Bumblebee” for me? I love that piece.”

“That’s  Rimsky-Korsakov,” Dante told her. “I moved on from his works last year.”

“He can play for us after dinner,” Luthor assured her.

Once dinner was over they moved to a parlor with a large grand piano and too many plush couches. Dante did play “Flight of the Bumblebee” for Lena, although that might have had something to do with the fact that Luthor had sandwiched Cisco between himself and Lena. Cisco was looking very pale, and he would not meet Conner’s eye, opting instead to look at the carpet. After Dante had played three pieces he was allowed to join Conner on one of the sofas, but Cisco was not, remaining firmly by Luthor’s side. Conner answered a few more awkward questions about his nonexistent dead mother, when Lena asked the boys something Dante kept his mouth shut and let Luthor answer for him, and another hour passed in relative ease.

Eventually Luthor stood up. “Lena, let me show you to your room,” he said, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

“So soon?” she asked, nevertheless letting him pull her up. “We were all just getting to know each other.”

“There will be plenty of time for that,” Luthor assured her. “You must be tired from your trip. The boys will still be here in the morning.”

_ Not with a little luck, _ Conner thought, but said nothing.

Once Lena had left the parlor ahead of him Luthor turned around and took hold of the handles to the double doors. “Two minutes,” he mouthed at Conner, then closed the door and left the three of them alone.

Cisco was immediately up and off the sofa, practically throwing himself into Conner’s arms. Conner sank to his knees and let the little boy come to him, snatching him up and holding him as tightly as he dared. He still felt a little weak, but he thought most of his strength had returned.

Dante slid off the sofa next to Conner, but did not attempt to insinuate himself into the hug. Conner turned to him, still with Cisco clutched to his chest.

“Dante?” he asked softly, mindful of the fact that the room was probably bugged.

For a moment Dante said nothing, eyes hard. When he did speak his voice was hard too. “Where’s Nightwing?”

“He’s coming,” Conner said, “I promise he’s coming, but we need more time.”

“How much time?” Dante wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Conner admitted. “I don’t know how long this will take. But you’ve got to trust us that we have a plan.”

Dante did not look convinced.

“Please,” Conner kept hold of Cisco with one arm and put his other hand on Dante’s shoulder. “Please, I know you don’t feel like you can trust anyone right now, but trust me. I will not leave you here, and neither will anyone else in your family.”

Dante continued to look at Conner, his expression unchanged. Then he spoke, and his voice was high and broken as though he were fighting tears. “Promise?”

Conner felt himself smiling helplessly in relief. “Promise.”

***

Luthor allowed Cisco and Dante to sleep in the same room that night. Once Lena had been secured the two of them were dragged bodily through the house back to the room that had been designated for Dante. Dante had not seen what became of Conner, but he had a suspicion that Conner had gone more quietly. He had no doubt that Luthor had threatened them to get at Conner, just as he had threatened Conner to get at Dante and Cisco. Besides, Conner had promised not to leave them. He wasn’t going to try and escape.

“What are you doing?” Cisco asked as Dante dragged the piano bench to the foot of the bed.

“Standing guard,” Dante replied, climbing onto the bench and sitting with his back to the bed, facing the door.

“You should sleep,” Cisco told him.

“You sleep,” Dante said, “I’ve slept enough for a month.”

“What are you going to do if anyone comes in?” Cisco demanded. “You don’t have Menace, you don’t have anything!”

“I can wake you up,” Dante said simply. “That will give us a fighting chance.”

Cisco looked dubious, but he said no more as he climbed into bed and burrowed under the covers. The lights had been turned off and would not come back on, but the bedside lamp was working and so Cisco left that to illuminate the room. It left the corners dark, but Dante only needed to see the door.

After a while Cisco fell asleep, but Dante remained awake, staring at the only entrance. The house was unnaturally quiet, not creaking or shifting or making any noises at all. Dante tried to listen for sounds of someone approaching outside in the hall, but the only sound was Cisco’s steady breathing. There was no clock, so it was impossible to tell how long he’d been awake. He blinked, but felt immediately like he needed to blink again. It became harder and harder to open his eyes each time.

Without any warning suddenly the door banged open, and two police officers with guns drawn burst into the room.

“We’ve found the children,” said one into his radio, a tall man with floppy blond hair falling in his eyes.

“Look at his arm!” said the other one, a young looking woman with her red hair in a tight ponytail.

Dante looked down at himself and saw that the shoulder and arm he’d been throwing against the door last night had bruised a dark purple. Immediately he clutched at the discolored skin and whined loudly in pain.

“Please help!” said Cisco, in his most pathetic sounding voice. Dante couldn’t have been more proud.

“We’ll get you out of here,” said the blond man, beckoning to the two of them. Cisco slipped out of bed and Dante jumped off the piano bench and both of them ran to the woman, who put her gun away in order to take each of them by the hand.

It was dark outside when they emerged onto the front lawn. Conner was already outside, surrounded by police officers, and Luthor was half in and half out of a police car, being pushed by an enormous bald officer whose muscles were nearly bulging out of his uniform.

“This is ludicrous,” Luthor was saying, then he caught sight of Cisco and Dante. “Wait, you cannot remove those children from my house. They are under my care.”

“Being arrested is grounds for losing custody of any and all foster children,” said the cop trying to force him into the car.

“I haven’t done anything to warrant this,” Luthor insisted, still struggling.

“False imprisonment is, in fact, a crime,” said the bald cop.

“He threatened those kids to keep me compliant,” Conner piped up. He had an orange shock blanket thrown over his shoulders, and an ambulance was pulling up behind him. “Check their blood, he drugged them at dinner yesterday.”

“Lex?” came a distressed voice from the front door. Dante turned, to see Lena standing there in a nightgown and robe. Two cops were behind her, and she was staring wide eyed at the scene outside.

“Go back inside Lena,” said Luthor, but he finally lost the fight and was forced into the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

“What’s going on?” Lena demanded. “What’s this about?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Conner insisted loudly. “Luthor held me against my will, but she’s innocent.”

“Conner?” Lena looked horrified. “Why would you say that? Why-”

“This way ma’am,” said one of the cops, taking Lena’s arm and tugging her back inside.

As Conner was escorted to the back of the ambulance and Lena was dragged still protesting into the house, Dante looked up at the cop who was still holding his hand.

“It’s over?” he asked, trying to sound pitiful and scared.

“It’s over,” she said comfortingly, letting go of his hand to smooth down his hair.

“What happens to us now?” Cisco asked, real anxiety in his voice.

The cop hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t know kid,” she admitted, “but we’re gonna figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're are out of murder mansion but not yet out of the woods. the next chapter is called "aftermath." comments are love, and remember to thank hedgi!


	9. Aftermath Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i liiiiiiive! and i continue writing, even though it's been a while. forgive me, and accept this humble offering of batfamily feels.

Last time Cisco and Dante were removed from their current foster home, another foster parent had conveniently stepped forward. There had been no question of what to do with the extremely high profile case; an equally high profile solution had presented itself, and that had been that. This time, when Cisco and Dante found themselves back in state custody, no such solution presented itself. No foster parent came for the specific purpose of whisking the boys away from their horrible life with Richard Grayson. No rich and powerful figure with a convenient distance from the Wayne family appeared.

There was, however, Bruce Wayne, and his veritable army of lawyers insisting that the child abuse claims were not again him but against his adopted son, who did not live with him and who could easily be banned from his property. There was no reason to suspect that Mr. Wayne had anything to do with the alleged abuse, which was still under investigation for another week and a half anyway. It was perfectly reasonable to place victims of child abuse with a grandparent. The system did just that all the time.

To the vociferous protests of Mrs. Westchester, Cisco and Dante were placed with Bruce.

“Can we see Dick now?” Cisco asked, once they were all bundled into the back of the limo and on their way to the Manor.

“Not yet,” Bruce said gently. “He still has to stay off the property until the investigation’s over.”

“But we can sneak him on, can’t we?” Dante insisted. “No one has to know-”

“We can’t risk someone finding out,” Bruce interjected. “We have to do this right, follow the rules exactly. We can’t give them any reason to take you away again.”

“But the investigation won’t last much longer, right?” Cisco asked hopefully. “They’re almost done?”

“Nine more days,” Bruce nodded his agreement.

“And then we can go home?” Dante prompted.

“If all goes well,” Bruce hedged, “then you can go home.”

Dante slouched back in his seat, but said nothing. Cisco did not slouch, but he stared off into space with a glum expression. Neither of them looked satisfied with this turn of events.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Bruce said, “but it could be a lot worse. It’s only for another week and a half. Then you can get back to your lives.”

“Why won’t they listen to us!” Dante huffed, his tone one of deepest frustration. “If they’d just  _ listen _ I’d  _ tell _ them that Dick never hurt us!”

“Adults don’t always listen to children when they should,” Bruce admitted. “Try not to be too upset with them. They’re just doing their jobs.”

“Yeah, and they were ‘just doing their jobs’ when they placed us with Lex freaking Luthor,” Dante grumbled.

“It was an elegant solution, by their standards,” Bruce told him. “They don’t know him like we do.”

“We didn’t  _ want _ to go with him,” Dante argued.

“Like I said,” Bruce smiled tiredly, “adults don’t always listen to children when they should.”

Alfred was waiting when they arrived, with dinner on the table and fresh baked cookies for dessert. They watched a movie together, in Wayne Manor’s ridiculously big entertainment room, and Bruce let the boys eat more popcorn than was probably advisable. Alfred gave him a look, but he simply turned back to the movie. It was a comedy; Cisco laughed a little, and Dante did not laugh at all.

After that Alfred insisted the boys go to bed, and Batman hit the streets of Gotham. If he hit a little harder tonight, with the memory of Dante’s solemn face in his mind’s eye, no one was going to know that. He’d like to be working his frustrations out on Luthor, who was out on bail despite the false imprisonment charge. They couldn’t prove he’d made the anonymous tip, but if the boys could convince the judge that Dante’s bruises had been his doing, they might have a chance to get  _ him _ slammed with a child abuse charge. Either way, none of that was Batman’s purview.

Bruce arrived back at the manor to find that Alfred was not waiting for him. That was unlike Alfred, so Bruce was instantly on alert. The house’s security cameras showed that he was in the boys’ room, the one they had insisted on sharing rather than having their own rooms. He was sitting on the edge of Cisco’s bed, leaning over the boy, with Dante standing close at hand. There was a bowl of water on the nightstand.

“What happened?” Bruce demanded, bursting into the bedroom still in his suit, his cowl pulled back to reveal his face.

“It’s young Master Cisco,” Alfred said, in his usual businesslike way. “He seems to have developed a rather high fever in a rather short space of time.”

“Who’s there?” Cisco asked, his eyes flickering around the room as though unable to focus on its occupants.

“It’s only Bruce,” said Dante, sounding as anxious as Bruce had ever heard him. “Cisco, it’s ok-”

“Dante?” Cisco asked. He had managed to direct his gaze at his brother, but his eyes stared unseeingly. “Where are you?’

“What have you given him?” Bruce asked, as Dante attempted to clamber into the bed beside his brother. Bruce caught him around the waist and tugged him back. “No, you go downstairs.”

“What?” Dante said in alarm. “Why?”

“Because you don’t seem to have this yet,” Bruce said, “and I don’t want you getting sick too. Now out.”

Dante looked nervously between Bruce and Cisco, his tiny body practically vibrating with nerves. In the end though he turned and left the room, closing the door behind himself.

“I gave him a mild fever reducer,” Alfred answered Bruce’s earlier question, “but it doesn’t seem to be working yet.”

“What’s his temperature?” Bruce asked.

“103,” Alfred said, not bothering to complain about the difference in metrics. “A little too high for my taste Sir.”

“Give him a stronger fever reducer,” Bruce instructed, then stood up. “Wait here with him a minute though, I’m going to grab the stuff to get some blood.”

“You believe this is not an ordinary fever?” Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“I think this is awfully convenient timing,” Bruce replied.

The stronger fever reducer did nothing to lower Cisco’s temperature. By dawn Cisco’s fever was approaching 104 degree, just shy of truly dangerous. His delirium had not lifted either, and he had grown nearly inconsolable when he was awake. He kept crying out for Dante, or for Dick, but neither of them were there to offer comfort. Thankfully he was mostly sleeping, but Bruce insisted on waking him every hour to make him drink ice water. There was no point in checking his coherency; he wasn’t coherent, and the higher the fever climbed the more distressed he became whenever they woke him.

“Perhaps we should take him to a hospital,” Alfred offered when he brought Bruce something to eat down in the Batcave.

Alfred had mostly been busy keeping Dante out of the sickroom, but Tim had been summoned home to help keep an eye on him. He was now asleep on one of the sofas, exhaustion having claimed him at last, with Tim continuing to watch over him in case he woke and tried to be sneaky. Damian might have been recruited to do it, but his interactions with the boys so far had been limited to peering at them from around corners and glaring, and he did not seem ready to change that.

Bruce ignored the food. “It wouldn’t do any good,” he said. “I’ve isolated what’s making him sick: it’s a virus, and it’s definitely man-made.”

“Luthor?” Alfred guessed. “But why bother, when he already had the two of them under his control?”

“To stop Cisco from testifying at the trial,” Bruce said in disgust, “and to keep Dante compliant. Luthor must have something to neutralize the virus, or at least bring down the fever. He would have offered it in exchange for Dante lying under oath.”

“A snake through and through,” Alfred spat. “Can you get your hands on the neutralizing agent?”

“I can synthesize my own,” Bruce told him, “but it’ll take time.”

“Time is something we don’t have if we can’t bring Master Cisco’s fever down,” Alfred said.

Bruce hesitated. There was one sure-fire way to bring a fever down: a bath in freezing cold water. To a delirious seven year old, it would be senseless torture. It might be their only chance of saving him.

“Prepare an ice bath,” Bruce said regretfully. “I’m not going to let Luthor hurt an innocent child.”

Alfred nodded grimly.

Once the bathtub in the bathroom adjoining the sickroom had been filled with ice water, Bruce pulled back the covers and lifted Cisco’s overheated body into his arms. The little boy immediately curled into him, seeking his heat even in sleep. He was cold, and Bruce knew that the ice bath would be like the ninth circle of hell for him. With Alfred standing by in case Cisco fought, Bruce began to lower him into the bath.

The minute ice water touched skin Cisco let out an almighty shriek and began to writhe. Bruce tightened his hold, but suddenly Cisco began to vibrate, his whole body trembling, and then those vibrations radiated out from him like a shockwave. Bruce was blown backward, barely managing to pull Cisco out of the tub in time so that he wasn’t dumped abruptly into the freezing water. The water sloshed in the tub, the tiles on the walls cracked under the strain, and the light bulb in the ceiling blew out.

“Well,” said Alfred, after a moment in the dark, “that isn’t going to work.”

Cisco began to wail, and Bruce gathered him up again. Cisco struggled, kicking his legs and waving his arms, but Alfred was there with a towel to wrap around him, trapping his flailing limbs.

“Dante!” Cisco screamed. “Dick! Where are you?!”

“Its alright,” Bruce said, voice raised over Cisco’s shouts. “It’s alright, you’re safe!”

“Help me!” Cisco called out. “Dick! Dante! Help me!”

Finally they got Cisco back into bed, and he settled down somewhat. He didn’t sleep, turning his head side to side and forcing his unseeing eyes open every few minutes, but he was at least no longer screaming.

“What now?” Alfred asked, once they were out in the hall. “If we can’t bring this fever down it will soon begin to cause brain damage.”

“I’ll keep working on the cure,” Bruce sighed. “In the meantime, we need Dick.”

“If someone sees him all could be lost,” Alfred reminded Bruce.

“I know,” Bruce said, “which is why I have a plan.”

***

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Richard Grayson walked into a coffee shop in downtown Gotham. He ordered a latte and sat at one of the tables outside, sipping while he read a book. No one noticed the book, but plenty of people noticed him. Some of them took pictures, and many of those pictures made it onto the internet. By seven o’clock that evening, when he left the coffee shop after five lattes and a blueberry scone, most of Gotham knew where he’d spent his afternoon.

What they didn’t know was that the Richard Grayson they’d seen was actually a certain shape shifting Martian girl, on orders from Batman himself. If anyone had known Nightwing’s whereabouts that afternoon, they would have seen him enter Wayne Manor via an upstairs window. Then they would have seen nothing but the curtains he drew, shutting out the sunlight before he took off his mask to reveal himself to be the real Richard Grayson.

“Cisco,” he said urgently, kneeling beside Cisco’s bed. “It’s me.”

“Dick?” said Cisco pitifully, turning his head toward Dick’s voice.

“I’m here kid,” he said, pulling back the covers and scooping Cisco into his arms. “It’s me, I’m right here.”

“I’m cold,” he said, shivering but not vibrating. “I’m so, so cold.”

“It’s gonna get colder,” Dick warned. “But I’ll be right here with you, ok?”

“Ok,” Cisco said, in a small, scared voice.

Cisco still screamed when he was lowered into the ice bath. He clung to Dick’s shirt when Dick sat down, submerging them both in the frigid water. But he did not let off a vibration blast. He did not crack the tiles or blow out the light bulb Alfred had replaced. He merely curled against his guardian’s chest, blue lipped and shuddering, until Alfred deemed his temperature satisfactory to come out again.

“You did good,” said Dick as they tucked Cisco back into bed. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m glad,” Cisco said groggily, exhausted from the constant shivering. “I tried . . . really hard . . . to keep it in.”

“You did so good buddy,” Dick pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you soon. Get some sleep, ok?”

“Ok,” Cisco said, his eyes already slipping closed.

“Master Bruce tells me the cure should be ready by morning,” Alfred said, as Dick pulled on his suit again, “but you had better get going before Miss M’orzz leaves the coffee shop.”

“Eight more days,” Dick said resignedly.

“Eight more days,” Alfred concurred.

***

Damian Wayne was not someone who liked sharing.

He had learned to share, obviously; one had to, when one was Bruce Wayne’s son. He’d learned to share his father with the others who looked up to him as a parent. He’d learned to share Richard, the only one of his so called “brothers” he would accept as family, with his seemingly endless cohort of friends. He’d learned to share his life, allowing into it more people than he might have thought possible five years ago.

What he was not inclined to share was his identity, which was something he felt he had a right to have to himself. He was Bruce Wayne’s one and only blood son. He was the one and only active Robin, and the title would remain his until he passed it on to a successor.

Most importantly though,  _ he _ was Richard’s one and only partner.

Learning that Richard had taken another partner, without so much as consulting Damian, was unacceptable. That it was an untrained nine year old was unthinkable. That the nine year old received training from the entire “Batfamily,” as Richard liked to call it, was deplorable. That the little heathen didn’t crash and burn within a week made Damian’s skin crawl.

As though sharing Richard with the Usurper weren’t bad enough, now he and his seven year old brother had taken up residence in Damian’s house. Father insisted it would only be for a little over a week, but when the younger child fell ill not only did the screaming and carrying on keep Damian awake, but Drake was invited to invade the house as well. Everyone in the house was focused solely on the two brats, and Damian was having none of it.

There was nothing particularly special about them, he noted as he watched the Usurper pace agitatedly around the library. They weren’t of any particularly prominent bloodline, they had no training save what they’re received since their adoption, and while the younger one had superpowers the Usurper had nothing. He used a child’s toy as a weapon, for goodness sake! Damian’s childhood toys had  _ been _ weapons, and he’d-

“Lurk much Freak?” said a voice behind Damian.

Damian, who had known of course that there was someone behind him and chosen not to acknowledge it, scoffed. “I don’t recall you being invited to the Manor, Todd.”

“What, I can’t come just to see how my favorite nephews are doing?” he asked conversationally.

“No,” said Damian shortly.

Todd peered over Damian’s head into the library. “You checking up on him too?” he asked, in a tone that suggested he was under no illusions as to why Damian was watching the boy.

Damian scoffed again. “The useless child doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“His brother’s sick,” Todd said, as though the one fact had anything to do with the other. “He’s distracted, and you’re being a creep.”

“What’s your point?” Damian wanted to know.

Todd took Damian by the arm and towed him further into the hallway. Damian allowed the action only because the Usurper had not been doing anything particularly interesting and there was no point in continuing to watch him.

“Look,” said Todd, “it’s pretty obvious you’re not taking no longer being the baby of the family well.”

“I was never the baby of the family,” Damian corrected. “I was merely the youngest.”

“You were also Dickie’s partner,” Todd said, causing deep annoyance to shoot through Damian like an arrow. “For a while anyway, and now you’re not any more.”

“Again, I fail to see your point,” Damian fought not to grind his teeth.

“My point is that you feel replaced,” Todd said, “just like I did when I found out there’d been another Robin after I’d died.”

“You think that-” Damian jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the library, “-could ever replace me?”

“No,” Todd replied easily, “and as obnoxious as you are, no one’s trying to replace you.”

Damian felt the urge to argue that Richard  _ was _ trying to replace him or he would never have allowed these  _ children _ into their lives, but he felt that that would only confuse his point about being irreplaceable, so he merely scoffed and said nothing.

Todd sighed. “I know how hard this is,” he said earnestly, “you’re talking to one of the few people in this world that’s been exactly where you are. But you need to understand, it’s not about you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know I didn’t do anything wrong,” Damian informed him. “What I don’t understand is why he chose such an inferior substitute.”

“Because it’s not about you,” Todd repeated. “It’s about them. They needed him, just like you needed him, but you don’t need him anymore. This isn’t a matter of who’s the superior model. It’s a matter of where he can do the most good.”

“He thinks he can do the most good by taking in these useless infants?” Damia said dubiously.

“If you think they’re so useless why don’t you help train them?” Todd suggested. “Dante would jump at the chance to learn from you if you’d stop glaring at him and his brother all the time.”

Damian turned his head in disdain. “I have no interest in his training. It’s none of my concern.”

“You’re a part of this family,” Todd said, “and like it or not so is he. Maybe if you spent some time with him you’d see in him what Dick sees. Or maybe he might even start to feel less like your replacement and more like your nephew.”

Damian was silent for a moment. The word,  _ nephew _ , was not something he’d considered in relation to himself and Richard’s wards. Logically speaking, if Richard was something like a brother to Damian, and the children had a claim to his guardianship, then the word might apply. The idea of it, of having nephews, still seemed strangely foreign. He wanted to try the word on his tongue, but Todd was standing right there.

It seemed Damian had been silent too long, because Todd sighed. “Think about it,” he said, and turned to go. Then he turned back, glaring at Damian over his shoulder. “And quit spying on them, sooner or later Dante’s going to notice and then he’ll hate you.”

Damian was about to retort that he didn’t care if Dante hated him, but something stopped him. He realized that, actually, he would care if Dante, or either of them, hated him. He examined that feeling for a moment, trying to trace it to its source, but the logic behind it remained tantalizingly out of reach.

Perhaps there was something to Todd’s suggestion.

***

For all the times that social services workers had refused to listen to Cisco and Dante, the judge at the hearing was certainly inclined to listen when Dante described being thrown repeatedly into a wall by Lex Luthor. He sniffled theatrically and pretended to fight tears as he recounted placing himself between Luthor and Cisco, taking the brunt of their abuser’s anger over some ridiculous infraction. Cisco, for his part, quavered out a plea to be sent home, to the man who wanted to adopt them and who would never  _ ever _ hurt either of them. By the end of their performance even Mrs. Westchester was teary eyed and pale, as though finally realizing what a horrible mistake she’d made. Well, she’d been warned.

Dick had come up with some explanation for the injuries they’d had before Luthor that all the adults seemed to find perfectly plausible. Luthor was also in attendance, and though he testified that Dante had thrown himself into the wall judging by the looks on everyone’s faces nobody believed him. At the end of the hearing Luthor was lead away in handcuffs, and Richard Grayson was officially awarded custody of Dante and Cisco Ramon. When the case was dismissed Bruce ushered them out into the hallway outside the courtroom, Dick following close behind.

As soon as they were outside Dick knelt down to the floor beside Cisco and Dante. He looked pale and drawn, like he hadn’t been sleeping. He also looked nervous. He held out his arms cautiously, as though unsure of what was going to happen next.

Cisco immediately threw himself into Dick’s arms, babbling out apologies and how happy he was that Dick was their guardian again. Dick held Cisco close, rubbing his back and trying to stem the tide of words with reassurances and stifled laughter. They were obviously ecstatic to be back together, and several passersby smiled at the dramatic reunion. 

Dante hung back, watching Cisco be hugged fiercely by someone who had just moved Heaven and Earth to get him back. Dick had been there for them, getting them out of Luthor’s house, coming to comfort Cisco when he was sick, and fighting to get custody of them. Or at least, fighting to get custody of Cisco. As Dante watched Luthor’s words returned to him, the memory drowning out what Cisco and Dick were saying.

_ You’ve caused an awful lot of trouble for him _ , Luthor’s voice said inside Dante’s head.  _ I would certainly be displeased, if I’d opened my home to an orphan only to get such treatment in return. _

He watched Dick pull away, cupping Cisco’s face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together. Both of them were smiling and laughing, so happy to be together again. Dante couldn’t help but wonder where he fit in all of this. Was he even welcome, after all he’d done?

Suddenly Dick turned to look at Dante, his eyes clouding over with concern. He curled one arm around Cisco and pulled him close, then held the other out to Dante.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I really . . . I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Dante stood there a moment, surprise keeping him in place. Dick was apologizing to him? After all the trouble he’d caused?

“Dante,” Dick said, and his voice trembled with emotion. “I . . . I don’t have an excuse, but I am so, so sorry.”

“You mean . . .” Dante hesitated. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Dick asked, smiling an exhausted smile. He looked so emotionally drained that Dante wanted to apologize for that too.

“Because I’m a troublemaker,” Dante shook his head to clear it. “Because it was my idea to run away, because I made you do all this stuff to get us back, because-”

“Is that what he told you?” Dick asked, face twisting in pain. “Dante, Dante he was lying. I could never,  _ ever _ be mad at you for trying to do what was best for Cisco. Never.”

Dante might have let out a small sob at that point, but it was quiet enough that he thought only he had heard it. He rushed forward and flung his arms around Dick’s neck, feeling a strong arm curl around him, holding him close.

“Besides,” Dick said, softly against Dante’s hair, “Nightwing needs a little Trouble.”

Dante laughed wetly. He felt like a weight had been lifted off him, like he was lighter than air. He and Cisco were out of danger. They were back with Dick. They were safe and they were  _ wanted _ and they were going to go home.

“Can we go home now?” Cisco asked, quietly into the ongoing hug.

Dick pulled back a little so he could look at both of them. “Yeah,” he said, wiping at his eye with his sleeve. “We can go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dick finally gets his long-awaited hug from dante! comment if you want more of this story (please tell me what you thought of damian, please) and don't forget to thank your friendly neighborhood hedgi!


	10. Aftermath Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have not forgotten you my lovelies, and the kidfic goodness will live on. i've got this story all planned out and i will see it through to the end.

Conner knew that he would have to be called as a witness at Luthor’s false imprisonment trial. It was highly unlikely that they would win, Luthor had too many overpriced lawyers for that, but Conner fully intended to drag his name through the mud. He was prepared to testify, and prepared for whatever backlash Luthor could orchestrate to make him regret his decision. He’d considered all these things before he’d gone into the house, weighed the costs against the benefits and found it worth it to get the boys back. If he could do some damage to Luthor’s reputation in the process, so much the better.

What he was not prepared for was Lena Luthor calling him at six in the morning.

“Conner?” came Lena’s concerned voice as soon as he picked up.

“Miss Luthor?” Conner asked in confusion, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Thank goodness,” Lena’s sigh of relief made the connection crackle in Conner’s ear. “It took me forever to get this number. And it’s Lena, Conner, please.”

“I’m not in the phone book,” Conner hedged reflexively. “Wait, why did you need my number? Why are you calling me?”

“I just got out of a meeting with one of Lex’s army of lawyers,” Lena said. Now that Conner was listening properly he could hear the sounds of a busy street in the background, as though Lena were walking down a sidewalk in the middle of the city. Metropolis, if he had to hazard a guess.

“What does that have to do with me?” Conner pressed.

“He’s your father Conner,” Lena said, as though this were obvious. “He’s been accused of a serious crime. The lawyer said he stands a good chance if you testify on his behalf, but-”

“I’m not testifying for the defense,” Conner cut her off. “I’m testifying for the prosecution. He’s guilty, Lena.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Conner could almost envision her waving that idea away. “He just got a little forceful is all. It’s just his way.”

“He threatened to hurt those kids if I didn’t comply,” Conner said. “He locked me in a room and wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Lex always locks the doors at night for safety,” Lena insisted. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant Conner, you must have misunderstood him. He would never hurt those boys, or you.”

“He _did_ hurt the boys,” Conner said. “Weren’t you listening at the custody hearing?”

“Kids bruise easily,” Lena said, and Conner could hear the note of desperation in her voice, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’m sure Dante just fell. Lex . . . Lex likes things the way he likes them. He thinks he knows what’s best, and he’s usually right, but he can be a little domineering. I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

Conner turned the phone so that the receiver was pointed away from his mouth and sighed. Lena was clearly deep in denial, and there wasn’t much he could say to someone that determined to make a martyr of her brother. Still, he felt bad for her. As devoted to her family as she was, this had to be a hard pill for her to swallow.

“Lena,” he said once the receiver was back in place, “you have to see this. Luthor’s not a good guy. He deserves to be in prison, and I hope he stays there.”

“How can you say that about your own father?” Lena asked. She sounded like she might cry.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Conner told him.

“And you don’t know the side of him I get to see,” Lena said firmly. “I know he may not seem like it but family is so important to him.”

“You’re his family,” Conner said gently. “Me, I’m just a . . . means to an end. And the same goes for those boys. We were never his family.”

“That’s not true!” Lena sobbed, then sniffled hurriedly as though trying to pull herself back together. “Look, can you meet me in Gotham?”

“I’m not going with you to visit him in prison,” Conner told her.

“I’m not asking you to,” Lena replied, “although I’d like that more than anything. I think we should talk face to face and I . . . I want to apologize to Richard Grayson.”

“You do?” Conner asked, surprised.

“Yes,” said Lena, “Lex misjudged him, and I’m afraid we caused him a lot of grief. I want to tell him how sorry I am, and I’d like you to come with me. I . . . I don’t want to go alone.”

Conner considered this. Whatever her belief in her brother might lead her to say, Lena was not a bad person. She felt guilty, and she wanted to make things right, even if that meant putting herself in an awkward situation. She was, for all her faults, trying. Conner could respect that.

“I’ll meet you,” Conner said. “Just tell me where.”

Conner wasn’t entirely sure how Lena thought he was going to get to Gotham, having returned home after Luthor’s arrest. He wasn’t even sure she knew where he lived, or how far away it was. He decided to trust that she had made an assumption about his budget and wasn’t overly concerned about his travel expenses. On the day of their arranged meeting the zeta tube dropped him five blocks east of the cafe Lena had chosen, and he walked the rest of the way like a normal person, not wanted to draw attention to himself.

Lena was already there when he arrived. She was looking around nervously as though afraid he might not show up, or perhaps that someone might recognize her. She stood when she saw him, a smile breaking out on her face as she walked briskly over to embrace him. Conner stiffly withstood her hug, usure of how to handle it, but when she squeezed him even tighter he awkwardly patted her on the back, and this seemed to satisfy her.

“Conner,” she said when they were both sitting with steaming mugs of coffee in front of them, “I need you to understand something. Your father is not a bad person.”

“He threatened little kids in order to keep me under his control,” Conner said, staring Lena hard in the eye, trying to impress upon her the severity of his statement.

Lena shook her head. “I know it probably seemed that way, but that wasn’t how he meant it. What exactly did he say?”

“He said if I didn’t comply he’d make the boys understand his vexation,” Conner said. “Not a lot of ways to interpret that.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Lena said, shaking her head again. “Lex says that kind of stuff all the time. When we were kids he used to talk about his ‘vexation’ any chance he could, he loves that word.”

“Then why bring the boys into it?” Conner challenged. “Why threaten them?”

“He wasn’t threatening them,” Lena maintained, “or you. He probably just meant that the evening wouldn’t be as fun for anyone if you weren’t polite. Lex is a stickler for manners, he gets it from mom, and since you weren’t raised in his house he was probably worried you’d embarrass yourself in front of me. He was trying to protect you, Conner.”

Conner stared at Lena, trying to process the series of mental backflips she’d just done. It seemed to him that she would stop at nothing to preserve her mental image of her brother. There wasn’t much he could say in the face of her determination.

“Lena,” he tried, “try to see this from my perspective. I was drugged, locked in a room, told I had to earn my way out or two little boys would pay the price. What am I supposed to think?”

Lena smiled tiredly. “I know we must seem like monsters to you,” she said, “especially what with your mother’s cousin says about us. But you haven’t had the chance to see us as a family. To see us as _your_ family. We want you to be a part of this family, Conner. I know, deep down, that’s all Lex wants.”

“It’s not what I want,” Conner said, meeting her weary gaze with a determined look of his own. “I want nothing to do with your brother except seeing him go to jail.”

“What about me?” Lena asked sadly. “Do I deserve to go to jail too?”

“He wanted to fool you,” Conner told her. “I know you didn’t know what he was doing. You’re just a bystander, not a part of his game. You’re . . . you’re a good person, Lena. Don’t let your brother pull one over on you.”

Lena let out a little breath that sounded almost like an exhausted laugh. “So you’ll come with me to apologize to Mr. Grayson then?” she prompted.

Quietly Conner resigned himself helping her, even if he wouldn’t change her mind. “When?”

“Now,” Lena said, rising from her seat. “I’m only in town long enough to do this and visit Lex. Someone’s got to keep Lexcorp running in his absence.”

Conner hesitated. Conner Kent had no reason to know Richard Grayson, and every reason in the world to avoid him. If Dick seemed to know him then there would be no way to explain that. Then again, Dick would know that, would probably have already considered it and decided on a way to approach the situation before Lena had finished introducing herself. It wasn’t what he’d call worth the risk, but he felt like he owed Lena something, after refusing to believe her and failing to disillusion her.

“Fine,” said Conner at last. “Let’s go.”

***

In the wake of the boys’ imprisonment by Luthor, Cisco’s nightmares had gotten worse.

He had visions more frequently too, but he was also having more ordinary dreams, echoes of unpleasant memories rather than whispers of an uncertain future. He dreamed about the night of his parents’ murder, about things that had happened to him as a captive of the Reverse Flash, and about being separated from Dante while in Luthor’s house. Sometimes he woke screaming, then was unable to recall the specifics of his dream, only the sense of being lost and alone, without any hope of being found.

Dick was determined to show Cisco that the world was not nearly as bleak as the one in his dreams. They went over to the manor more often, and saw the various members of the family whenever schedules would allow. He invited his friends from the team over, to have dinner or watch movies or see what the boys were working on in their more mundane pursuits. He spent as much time as humanly possible with the boys, until he got the sense that Dante was starting to feel smothered.

That was also why he’d organized a little Welcome Home party, nearly a week and a half after he had regained custody. Some of the people they didn’t get to see as often had promised to come, and there would be cupcakes, and even though there weren’t supposed to be gifts Dick knew some people would be bringing some. He was just finishing up the decorations and expecting the first guests to arrive when an unfamiliar knock came at the door.

Dick could recognize the knocks of all his friends, but this knock did not belong to anyone he knew. It was short and hesitant, three light taps on the door and then silence. Dick did not know anyone who would knock on his door so timidly, so he opened the door already frowning in confusion.

Whatever Dick had expected, it was not Lena Luthor.

“Hello,” she said, waving awkwardly with one hand. In the other hand she clutched two small garment bags, like for children’s clothes.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Dick growled before he could stop himself.

Lena looked taken aback, one foot straying away from the door and farther into the hallway. A large hand came down on her shoulder, and Dick’s tunnel vision widened until he could see Conner, half hidden behind the door, looking supremely uncomfortable but with attention focused on Lena.

Dick wanted to ask what on _Earth_ had possessed Conner to bring her here, but he was stopped by the knowledge that Dick Grayson and Conner Kent had no reason to know one another, and Lena probably didn’t know that they were friends. She thought they were strangers, that she had brought Conner here, not the other way around.

With Conner’s hand on her shoulder Lena seemed to regain her courage. “Mr. Grayson,” she said formally, “my name is Lena Luthor, and this is my nephew Conner Kent. We’re the family of Lex Luthor, who was taking care of your boys a few weeks ago.”

“Taking care of them is an interesting way of putting it,” Dick said, barely managing to keep his tone civil. He did not want to be mature in the face of this reminder of what his boys had been through, today of all days.

“I know you must not like me,” Lena admitted, “and you probably don’t want to see me here, but I have to tell you how sorry I am, on behalf of my whole family. This whole mess has just gotten way out of hand, and I hope . . . I hope there hasn’t been any lasting damage.”

“Lasting damage?” Dick repeated incredulously. “You mean, like, from taking two boys who have been abused away from a loving home and putting them in _another_ abusive situation?”

“My brother had the best of intentions-” Lena tried.

“I highly doubt that,” Dick snarled, “and I don’t think much of your intentions either, showing up here out of the blue.”

“Hey,” Conner said, interrupting Dick’s seething rage, “she’s just trying to be nice.”

Dick had no idea what had brought Conner here, or why he should be defending Lena Luthor of all people, but at his friend’s words he found himself calming a little. There had never been any evidence of Lena Luthor’s involvement in her brother’s crimes, and the League was of the general opinion that she was an innocent bystander in her brother’s machinations. She was a reminder, but nothing more. She had no sinister agenda.

He took a deep, steadying breath, then forced mouth into something approximating a smile. “Thank you for your consideration,” he said with difficulty, “but we’re about to have a bit of a get together, so I’d better finish setting up.”

“Say no more,” Lena said with a blinding smile, “but if it’s a party I might as well leave you with a gift. I thought you might like these,” she held out the garment bags. “They’re clothes, for the boys. My brother had them tailored. No sense in them going to waste.”

Suddenly Dick’s vision tunneled again, this time on the bags in Lena’s hand. He was breathless with rage, practically shaking with it. He had absolutely no doubt that there was something off about those clothes, something woven into the fabric or stitched into the seams that would play right into Luthor’s hands. It was more than that though, it was the principle of the thing, the fact that Luthor was still meddling in their lives. He had had clothes made especially for Cisco and Dante, because he had meant for them to be his belongings. Even now, now that they were out of his reach, he was still trying to lay claim to them.

“Go to hell,” Dick whispered.

“I’m sorry?” Lena asked, looking shocked.

“I said,” Dick repeated, louder this time, “go to-”

Dick was about to swear, and keep swearing until Lena Luthor stopped darkening his doorstep, when suddenly he felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked down, and immediately his glare softened when he saw Cisco. The little boy was looking up at him with wide, anxious eyes.

Cisco turned to Lena and waved shyly, half hidden behind Dick’s leg. “Hi Lena.”

“Hi Cisco,” Lena said softly, keeping her eyes fixed on him rather than Dick.

Cisco looked up at his guardian. “Lena was nice to us,” he said, and his voice somehow suggested that he understood the weight his words carried. “Don’t be mad at her. Please?”

Dick let out a slow breath, trying to exhale all the rage that had welled up inside him. He gave Cisco a small, approving smile, putting a hand on the boy’s head, then turned back to Lena.

“I can’t accept the clothes,” he said evenly, “but I accept your apology. Thank you for trying to make things right.”

“Of course,” said Lena, nodding carefully. “I’ll just be going-”

“Well what have we here?” said a voice from down the hallway to Dick’s left.

Dick took a step outside his apartment to see Jason, Tim, Roy and Roy’s clone, who the others had taken to calling Red, lined up shoulder to shoulder across the hallway. They were standing between Lena and the elevator, and there was no room for her to slip between them.

Roy, who had been the one who had spoken, took a menacing half step forward. “What are you doing here _Luthor?”_ he snapped.

As Roy stepped forward Lena took an answering step back. “I-I . . .” she stuttered, “I was just-”

“Save it,” Jason interrupted. All four of them were glaring, but Jason and Roy had the most vitriol.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here,” Roy accused. “If I had your last name I’d have put half the map between me and those kids.”

“I meant no offense-” Lena tried.

“We all know perfectly well what you _meant_ by coming here,” Roy told her coldly.

Dick could well imagine where their minds had gone. Lex Luthor’s sister appearing at the apartment less than two weeks after the custody hearing, bearing gifts and on the day of a party. They doubtlessly thought she was there as a spy, and Dick had to admit that until a moment ago he’d shared their suspicions. He was still not going to let Lena into the house, or take the offered clothing, but he was at least confident that she had meant no harm.

Before Dick could say anything though, Conner stepped in front of Lena.

“Look,” he said, “I know how this looks but she just came to apologize. We don’t want any trouble, ok?”

“Didn’t expect to see you defending her, _Kent_ ,” Roy spat, clearly unwilling to forsake his righteous indignation.

“Roy,” Red put a hand on Roy’s shoulder, his face conflicted, “ease up.”

Roy tugged out of his clone’s hold. “I don’t have to ease up on her! She’s-”

“Ease up on Mr. Kent, Roy,” Red said, a little more firmly.

Roy took a deep breath through his nose. Of course, Lena had no way of knowing that Conner and any of Dick’s friends knew each other. Lex knew both their identities of course, but as far as Lena knew they were strangers. If they knew anything about each other, it would be what they’d read in the paper.

“I thought you of all people wouldn’t be advocating for the Luthors,” Roy pressed Conner. “Testifying for the defense all of a sudden?”

“Not a chance,” Conner said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Luthor’s guilty. His sister’s not.”

“Thank you, Miss Luthor,” Dick interjected before Roy could say any more. “I appreciate your apology.’

“Of course,” said Lena, looking nothing short of terrified as she glanced back and forth between Conner and Roy.

Red put a hand on Roy’s shoulder again, and this time Roy allowed himself to be pulled out of the way. Jason stepped reluctantly aside also, until there was space for Lena to pass between them. Conner followed close behind her, throwing warning glares at Roy and Jason, and kept close to her until the two of them were out of sight.

The sight of Cisco and Dante calmed Roy down enough to come inside, and Conner returned about an hour later with no Lena and a gift. A few others arrived, including M’gann, Kaldur, Wally and Artemis. There was cake, chocolate with blue buttercream frosting, and ice cream, and everyone was sure to tell Dante how much they had missed him while he was gone. Dick had been very clear that they needed to impress this upon Dante in particular. He would not have Luthor’s poisonous words affecting Dante’s self esteem if he could help it.

Eventually it was time for presents. Not everybody had brought one, but there was a modest pile on the coffee table for Cisco and Dante to dig into.

“This one’s from me!” M’gann said excitedly as Cisco tore the paper off a small box.

Beneath the brightly colored wrapping was a nightlight, one that would sit on the dresser rather than directly over an outlet. The box promise astrologically accurate constellations projected on the bedroom ceiling.

“I thought it might help,” M’gann said gently. “I know you’ve been having a lot of bad dreams lately.”

“Thank you,” Cisco said, giving M’gann a grateful smile. Dick nodded approvingly.

“Ours next!” Artemis said, grinning. She seemed barely able to contain her enthusiasm as Wally dutifully handed over two small gift bags.

“Technically these are from Bart,” he said as Cisco and Dante began sifting through the tissue paper, “but he’s not here and they were Artemis’s idea, so we get to present them.”

As Artemis looked on gleefully Cisco and Dante pulled two knit hats out of the bags. Dante’s was blue, patterned with the Nightwing symbol, and Cisco’s was black with the Batman symbol on it.

“He made these?” Dick wondered, impressed, as Cisco and Dante put the hats on and posed together while Artemis and M’gann both took pictures.

“He’s taken up knitting,” Wally said resignedly. “Joan taught him. Surprisingly popular with the babes.”

After Jason and Dante shared a conspiratory look over a box full of cheap plastic yo-yos Dick decided it was time for a movie. While everyone was watching, a large bowl of popcorn being passed around, Dick took the box and hid it on the top shelf in his closet. He was under no illusion that it would remain hidden for very long, but it might stay hidden long enough for him to get Jason to tell him what that look had been about. Then he went to the kitchen, preparing to make a second bowl of popcorn, but he found Conner already emptying a bag into the only other sufficiently large bowl in the house.

“One more, I think,” Conner said as he surveyed the level of popcorn in the bowl.

Dick concurred, and put another bag into the microwave.

“How are you holding up?” Conner asked softly when Dick turned back to him.

“I’m dealing,” Dick replied wearily. “The kids are dealing too. They’ll be alright, but I don’t know how long it will take.”

“Luthor has a way of getting in your head,” Conner agreed. He looked like he had more to say, but wasn’t sure whether he should say it.

“Your head too?” Dick wondered, raising an eyebrow.

“I try not to let him,” Conner said, shaking his head as though to clear it. “I mostly do it by avoiding him. Having to be there, in that house . . .”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Dick said solemnly.

“I know,” Conner said. “I’m happy I went in there. It’s just, something he said.”

“What’d he say?” Dick asked.

Conner hesitated, then sighed. “He said the League would eventually use Cisco as a weapon, just like the Light would have.”

“That will never happen,” Dick said immediately.

“He seemed pretty confident,” Conner replied skeptically.

Dick considered this for a moment. The League were not above sending children on missions, even children as young as Dante. Cisco was seven, but he wouldn’t be seven forever. How long until it was acceptable to send him out to? Sooner than it would be for another child, one who didn’t have powers?

No. The League were carefully about their expectations for minors. Those they sent out without an adult had years of training, and teammates to watch their backs. It wasn’t the same as what the Light did. They wouldn’t _use_ him.

“So am I,” Dick answered Conner’s unspoken question. “The League would never do anything like that. They’d never _use_ a child. Anything Cisco does won’t be for years, and it will always, always be his choice.”

Conner cracked a smile. “You’re right,” he said, nodding slightly. “The League aren’t like that. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Nowhere near the same,” Dick agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment i'm begging.


End file.
